


Ghosts

by RingwraithBookworm



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, At times really sad, Character Deaths, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Family, Fluff and Happy moments, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, I'm still figuring figuring out tags lmk if you have suggestions, Please Just Go With It, Siblings, Sort Of, Whole Lotta People, timeline is whack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2020-12-07 20:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20982266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RingwraithBookworm/pseuds/RingwraithBookworm
Summary: There was more to Dick Grayson than met the eye. He had a history. He had lost friends and tried to forget the pain. Unfortunately, life has a way of coming full circle, and the curiosity of the other members Bats - beginning with Damian - wasn't helping.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> his has been crossposted on ff.net for a while, and it has more chapters there. I'm slowly editing them and posting them here. Editing should go faster as I get to the later chapters.

Dick stared into the flames. He was at the back of Wayne Manor, far enough from it that the lights from the Manor didn't reach him. He was near the woods, but still far enough away. Years ago, he had found this old fire pit back here when he was younger.

It had been nothing but a raised metal pit. (It still was). There were log benches around it, but they had been in a state of disrepair. He had thought it looked sad and lonely, so with a little work he got it working again. It hadn't been used in years, but eventually after he fixed it him and Bruce had lots of campfires out here.

Barbara would come sometimes, along with his other friends, and they even got Alfred out here on a few rare occasions. Very rare. He used to love it whenever that happened. The fire pit held so many memories. After he left, he hadn't thought about it until he came across it the other day chasing after Titus (he had escaped out the back door - darn dog).

Wayne Manor was on sort of a hill, so you couldn't see the fire pit from the back door, which was at the bottom of a sort of hill. That was why he had never noticed it in the first place.

When, by some miracle, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Damian, Babs, Bruce, and he were all at Wayne Manor for a three-night stay, he got the brilliant idea to do another campfire. To celebrate (as sad as it sounds) all of them being under the same roof without killing each other. It was supposed to be on the last night. This night.

The others didn't come. He was the only one out here.

With Dick alone, it made him think of how the last campfire was when he was thirteen. Years and years ago. He was twenty-two now. Jason was nineteen. Tim was seventeen. Damian, whom Dick took care for a year when he was twenty-one and Bruce was MIA, was eleven. Babs was his age. Steph was seventeen. Cass was eighteen.

None of them had ever been to a campfire here. They never got the chance. Now that they had one, they didn't take it.

The fire crackled. Dick should've expected none of them would stay for the campfire. He didn't know why he bothered. He didn't know why he didn't give up hope. He suspected it was because of his background. He was taught to never give up on family, no matter how tempting they make it.

A breeze made the leaves on the ground rustle. It was fall, and the trees were changing color and losing their leaves. Dick had on a black hoodie and jeans with some brown hiking boots. The wind ruffled his black hair, a little shorter than his usual look. Shorter on the sides, longer on the top so he had bangs hanging over his forehead.

Dick had been feeling nostalgic when he got it. He sighed. By now, at least half of them were out the door. Maybe more. And they definitely weren't heading here.

He didn't blame them. He wasn't exactly on the best terms with any of them. Jason - well, he wasn't on good terms with anyone, except perhaps Tim, Alfred, and Leslie. That didn't stop Dick from trying even after all the times Jason pushed him away.

Tim - Dick betrayed him. Dick could relate to that. He only wished he could've explained it to Tim better why he choose Damian as Robin. Tim was still his brother. Dick loved all his brothers, and he tried to spend time with all of them. Unfortunately, they weren't exactly keen to spend time with him.

He knew what they thought of him as. Annoying. A nuisance. An idiot. A huggable, too sensitive little kid who loved to freely. He knew that a part of them wondered how he was a hero.

A few times, Dick knew he would get through to them, but they' push him out just as quickly as he'd get in. It was getting tiring. He continued his mental checklist. Cass - the girl he considered his sister was too strict, and she had a tight schedule. She couldn't be bothered by something like a campfire, especially with a family who tried and nearly succeeded in killing each other multiple times each month, if not week.

It all depended on whether or not they were in the same city. And Cass herself, while she wanted a family, just wasn't the best at interacting with people. In fact, most of them lacked social grace. Steph - Dick hoped this girl, his other "sister" would show. If she did, she'd probably be dragging Cass with her.

She reminded him the most of himself in a way, but at the same time she was completely her own person. He half expected her to be here the most out of all of them, but clearly she didn't want to be here any longer than she had to. That was the difference between him and her, he supposed. He refused to give up on this family. Steph had already given up.

She was never technically adopted by Bruce, too. More of she became part of the Bats through her becoming Spoiler, dating Tim, and being trained by Barbara, who she shared an apartment with. He was fairly certain Cass crashed there whenever she came back from traveling.

Bruce - Dick and Bruce haven't really talked for years without the other getting mad eventually. Sure, they could work together just fine. To the outside observer, one who didn't know them when they were Batman and Robin, they fought together almost as well as they did when they had been Batman and Robin.

But they had lost that special something that made them really formidable. You would have to have seen them fight when they were Batman and Robin, Dick knew, to understand. He doubted they would ever get it back.

Damian - Dick knew it was too much to hope that the kid would be here. Damian was too closed off, and hadn't really trusted Dick ever since he moved back to Bludhaven after Bruce came back. Still, he thought . . . Dick sighed. It was too much to hope. Yet he did anyway.

His pity party was interrupted when a snapping sound was heard. Someone had stepped on a twig. A curse was soon followed. The young voice was very familiar.

"Damian?" Dick asked in disbelief. He twisted around from where he had been sitting slouched on the ground against the log bench.

Damian scoffed, trying to cover his nervousness and embarrassment. "Don't act so surprised, Grayson. You did, after all, invite everyone to a campfire."

Dick stared dumbfounded. Damian looked awkward and slightly out of place just standing there.

"You came."

"Did you expect monkeys to fly? I merely came because you looked like an idiot sitting out here alone." Damian said.

Dick didn't bother pointing out that you couldn't see him from the back door, only the shadows of the fire dancing on the trees in the night, the flames flickering.

He gestured eagerly next to him. "C'mon, sit next to me. I'll show you how to do a s'more."

Curiosity got the better of Damian. Last year, Dick had been too busy to even try to take Damian for a campfire, or teach him about the wonders of s'mores. Plus, they hadn't been living in Wayne Manor, they had been living in the penthouse in the city.

"S'mores?" Damian asked cautiously sitting next to Dick, a good three feet between them.

As usual, Dick ignored the personal space, scooting closer. Damian was secretly glad Dick ignored his personal space, however much it sometime irked him. Dick, out of all the family was the one who took Damian in. Adopted him as his brother, and completely ignored him, bulldozing past his walls.

For Damian, a boy who was trained since birth to be an assassin, it was nice to know that someone cared. Not that he'd ever tell Dick that. Or that the real reason he came out here was because he missed spending time with Dick. Going from Dick Grayson to Bruce Wayne was a huge adjustment, and Damian couldn't help but feel hurt when Dick left.

Left him. So he did what he usually did. He attacked what hurt him, except this time it didn't make him feel only made him miss Dick hugging him and calling him little brother, telling him that eventually, it'll be all right. Having someone there to catch him when he made a mistake.

So when Dick scooted closer to Damian, he didn't lean away.

Damian leaned toward him, and rested his head against him. Dick just smiled and explained s'mores. Afterwards, they spent a half hour attempting to make a s'more. Quite a few of Damian's s'mores caught fire, to which he always panicked at. Internally, of course, but Dick could tell.

Even though he had been with the Bats for a year and a half (most of which he spent with Dick) Damian still panicked inwardly at a mistake. He was used to being punished when he made a mistake. After all, in the League of Assassins there could be no mistakes.

Dick just laughed at one of the flaming marshmallows that flew off of Damian's stick when he waved it around frantically, attempting to put the fire out. Luckily, it flew into the fire. This only caused Dick to laugh harder. Damian found himself joining in with a small smile. On another attempt, the flaming marshmallow flew off into the grass.

Since the ground was damp, it didn't catch fire, though Dick and Damian both stomped on it, Dick chuckling quietly. A small smile was on Damian's face. Another flaming marshmallow flew right at Dick, and he caught it . . . with his mouth. Damian gaped. Dick ate a flaming marshmallow.

He suspected the man would be able to eat anything, but now he knew for certain. Dick just chuckled at Damian's expression. Dick got out a marshmallow and calmly roasted it afterwards, making it golden. Damian demanded that Dick show him that, determined to get it right. Dick had to explain that everyone liked their marshmallows differently.

Damian didn't care. He just didn't want the marshmallow to be on fire. The first marshmallow Damian didn't set on fire was severely burnt, but it wasn't flaming, so the boy took that as a good sign.

Damian ate it, and decided it was wonderful. They roasted more marshmallows, occasionally snacking on a Hershey bar, graham cracker, or a plain marshmallow. Damian blamed the sugar, but he chucked a marshmallow at Dick on impulse. Dick dodged, but a second one got in his hair.

Pretty soon, they were having a marshmallow war. Thankfully, or unfortunately, Dick had gotten many marshmallow bags, around fourteen. (Don't judge him, they had been on sale). They used two bags just teaching Damian to roast marshmallows. They ate a whole lot more.

Eventually, they settled down. The small smile on Damian's face was a little bigger, almost not invisible anymore. Dick had eaten another smoking marshmallow when Damian had gotten upset that he burned it. Dick claimed it was perfect, and ate it.

Finally, Damian asked a question he'd been dying to ask. "Grayson, where'd you learn to swallow flaming marshmallows?"

Dick responded without hesitation. "From the circus. The fire-eater taught me. We used to have these campfires on the last night in a town. I always loved to try and learn the other acts. At a campfire once when we were outside of this town . . . "

Dick's voice trailed off. With jolt, Damian realized that he had never heard a story about Dick's childhood. Sure he knew the basic story, grew up in circus, parents were killed, adopted by Bruce Wayne, and became Robin.

For the first time ever, it was occurring to Damian that there may be more to the story. That there was so much about Dick that he didn't know. Damian was curious. Dick always told Damian - and the others - about what he did as Robin, but it was always with him fifteen or above.

His younger years as Robin were left alone. Just like his years with his parents - his actual parents, the kind who loved and cared for him, with a mother who didn't want him to become the greatest assassin - were left alone. Dick went silent. The expression on his face, or at least the half Damian could see was unreadable.

Damian found that unusual. Dick was always talking, always moving. Dick never took anything seriously, found trouble in the most unlikely situations, and got kidnapped constantly. There were times, though, where Damian wondered if it was all an act. If Dick was capable of more than he let on. If he purposefully found trouble.

If he let himself be kidnapped and made to look helpless. Because sometimes, Dick would get this look on his face. Sometimes, in a fight, Dick would throw a move that a day before he claimed he could barely do. And in the fight, he did it perfectly.

Sometimes, it seemed like Dick acting like a carefree idiot was an act. Sometimes, dare Damian say it, he seemed smart and came up with a plan that made sense. Damian wondered just how much of an act it was.

Damian spoke. "Well, Grayson, will you tell me?"

Dick looked at Damian. He yawned. "Maybe some other day. It's getting late. We've spent the whole night out here, I think it's almost six-thirty in the morning."

Damian tried not to feel disappointed. His curiosity only grew. They went inside. Dick had decided to stay the night, since today was a Saturday and he didn't have work Sunday or Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr as Ringwraithmd, feel free to find me. I'm also on ff.net as RingwraithYJLOVER, where this is crossposted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me again. Hi. I told myself no editing but yeah that didn't happen. Still the same story, just hopefully a little neater. Not much has really changed, mostly it's just grammar.

The Strange Incident, as everyone had been referring to it, had happened only a couple weeks ago but Dick was still feeling the after effects. 

A little self-conscious of the bandages around his head and the way his hair had grown out weirdly, he forced himself to ignore it. He'd gotten pretty good at that.

Instead, he tried to remember the campfire with Damian from a couple weeks ago. He smiled to himself, and knew he was looking forward to seeing Damian again. He waited in the parking lot, knowing a few other people glanced at him suspiciously since he was dressed casually. He was here to pick up Damian as a favor to Bruce on his Monday off from. Normally, he might complain, but it was Damian. Tim was driving Jason to the latter's place, since Jason had gotten his license suspended due to speeding, which prevented an awkward car ride that might end in bloodshed. 

Frankly, Dick was surprised Jason was here, even if he was completing high school as a favor to Alfred. Jason still preferred to do it his own way, living in an apartment instead of the Manor. 

Steph and Cass were driving together and likely hanging out together afterwards. He half hoped that they would stop by the Manor. The bell rang, and Gotham Junior opened its doors. Students came out. Most went to the buses, but a few went to the lawn in front of the parking lot where their ride was waiting. On the other side of the lot, across from Gotham Junior, Gotham Academy was letting out.

Gotham Elementary let out shortly after.

Horrible names, all of them, but there was nothing that could be done about changing them. He knew this for a fact. He'd tried and failed. 

His face split into a grin as he caught sight of a familiar figure. 

Damian was stalking towards Dick, an impatient look on his face. Dick silently chuckled.

At the same time Damian reached him, another voice rang out, "Well, well, well, if it isn't little Dickie Grayson. Finally get the job of butler from the old fart?"

He knew that voice, and the smug, arrogant person it belonged to. 

Dick sighed. He wasn't in the mood to deal with this right now. 

"Matt, please go away." Dick asked, keeping his voice polite. There was no mistaking the annoyed undertone to it.

Matt Evans. His former self-appointed tormenter when Dick had come all those years ago to Gotham Junior and skipped two grades. Technically, it was a grade, but since he hadn't met the age requirement for fourth grade, it was two. He turned nine in December, but until then he had been an eight year old in a room full of ten and eleven year olds. They hadn't been particularly friendly. 

The only other nine year old had been Babs, who had also skipped a grade. She was older than him by three months. She had made the requirement for fourth grade, but then she skipped a grade making her young too. Barbara was also new, since she had moved to Gotham Elementary from a local public school. The two of them got along well, and became friends. They'd made great partners. 

Matt had loved to pick on him for it. Dick hadn't cared. He'd just been happy he had a friend. 

Damian reached them. "Well, Grayson, are we-"

"And who's this? Is this Bruce's kid?" Matt Sloan said, surveying the boy with slight interest.

In contrast, Damian showed absolutely no interest in Matt beyond the usual threat assessment. It almost made Dick smile. There was his cute little murderous brother! 

Well, one of them, anyways. 

Damian scoffed. "If you are asking whether or not Bruce Wayne is my father, the answer is yes."

Matt's eyes lit up. Damian had passed his judgement. Unfortunately, Matt based everyone off of the families they came from. Since Damian was, by blood, Gotham elite, he had passed Matt's inspection. Dick sighed. Of course, Damian was baffled, but a sneer was slowly curling on his lips. He frowned a little, hoping that Damian hadn't managed to smuggle any knives into school today but Dick already knew what the answer to that question was. 

Apparently oblivious to Damian's rising confused murderous intent, Matt looked at him in pity. "I'm so sorry you have to hang out with this freak. If you want, I'll take you home. I'm sure you and my brother will get along just fine."

Damian blinked, for a second wonder if he heard correctly. In a low voice, Damian asked, "Pardon?"

He stiffened, registering the old familiar insult, but at the moment Dick wasn't worried for him. He was more worried about the impending doom Damian's tone promised that Matt failed to pick up on. 

He swiftly intervened. "Matt, we really need to get go-"

"Did I say you can talk to me, shithead?" Matt asked angrily. "Shut up."

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose before watching the train wreck in progress.

Damian nearly hissed, glaring at Matt as he ordered, "Don't talk to him like that!"

"Like what?" Matt asked, scoffing. It was clear that Damian and Matt weren't going to get along. "Like the worthless trash he is? If it wasn't for Bruce Wayne, he would've been thrown away years ago."

"Matt, please, we have to leave and you're making a scene-" Dick tried to say, but was cut off.

"Yeah, leave, that's all you ever do. Run away back to mommy and daddy. Oh wait, that's right, they left you because they were ashamed of their worthless son. They didn't want you, they were so ashamed they died to get away from you." Matt said, sneering at Dick.

Abruptly, Dick froze. He breathed deeply, forcing his hands to remain loose at his sides. 

Damian's own hands itched for a sword. He looked at Grayson, expecting the overly emotional man to be crying. To his surprise, the man's face was blank. It was calm. Grayson put a hand on Damian's shoulder, gripping it tightly. Damian hid his wince. It kind of hurt. If he concentrated, he could almost feel the man's hand shaking. 

Dick steered Damian to his car, calling out, "Goodbye, Matt! It _wasn't_ a pleasure to see you again!"

.

.

.

When they got back to the Manor, Damian was beyond mad.

Dick expected the outburst, but he had to admit he was impressed by the cursing. Maybe Damian had picked up a few from Jason?

"Why didn't you do anything?!" Damian yelled, frustrated. The yelling attracted another member of the house.

Bruce watched as Damian screamed and yelled, cursing someone with the last name Evans. He hadn't heard that particular last name for a long time, but he had a feeling he knew exactly who he was. 

When Damian stopped to take a breath, Dick spoke. "Damian, please calm down. It doesn't matter, okay?"

"Doesn't matter, Grayson?" Damian hissed. "What does matter is that you let him insult you! You didn't defend yourself!"

"Damian," Dick spoke calmly. "He is a civilian. We do not harm civilians, even if we have the ability to."

Dick had a vague sense of déjà vu, and realized those were nearly the exact words Bruce had said to him when, all those years ago, _Dick_ had asked if he could beat up bullies.

Damian cursed and stormed upstairs. Dick threw his hands up.

Bruce raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously.

He picked up his keys. "I have to go back to Bludhaven, I'll see you later, Bruce."

Bruce gave a short nod. He walked away and Dick went upstairs to pack his bag again.

Damian listened to Dick as he went up the stairs and closed the door to his room to pack. He wondered why Dick hadn't been affected even the tiniest bit by the insults. With a feeling of guilt, Damian realized that he had called and said all of the things Matt had said. 

But hearing it from Matt . . . it felt different. Only he was allowed to insult Dick like that. At least most of the time he didn't mean it . . . and he had gotten better, really! Once again, Damian wondered about Dick's past. Dick had always seemed like he'd be popular and a jock in school. Why did Matt treat him like scum? Jealousy? 

Damian scowled. 

.

.

.

Hours later, Damian was attempting to solve the large mystery that was Dick's past, or at least the parts he didn't tell them. To start, he had been tempted to go into Dick's room, but eventually decided asking Alfred for Dick's school yearbooks wouldn't hurt.

Alfred came back with seven year books. Damian was surprised. He had expected more. When he asked Alfred about why there were no more year books, Alfred explained that before Dick was taken in by Bruce, he was homeschooled. Therefore, no year books. It made sense, but it left Damian a little disappointed. He'd have to look for younger photos of Grayson elsewhere.

Damian headed to the rarely used living room. Before he really started looking at them, Damian looked and saw some awards were in the front and back covers. It looked like the year books went from fifth grade to twelfth grade. He looked closely at the awards, pieces of tough paper with inscriptions, tucked into the front and back of the year books.To his surprise, most of them were mathlete awards. That through Damian for a loop. Dick was a mathlete? Somehow, he couldn't wrap his head around it. Sure, Dick could be smart when he wanted to, but a mathlete?

Damian had always pictured Dick as an athlete or something in school, not a mathlete. Furthermore, it looked like Grayson had at least skipped a grade. And he was scrawny. Like, Damian knew that Dick had a lean, muscular frame, along with the acrobatic grace, but in his year book pictures . . .

He was scrawny. There was no other way to put it. He looked like the class nerd, and judging by the evidence that he skipped a grade and was a mathlete, he was. His slicked back black hair looked stupid and shorter than usual. Damian frowned. He can't have been popular. He had always pictured Dick as being popular and a jock in school. The evidence that pointed to the fact that he wasn't surprised him. It made Damian uncomfortable to think that there were parts of Dick's life he wasn't aware of. 

What with the goody-two-shoes he was, Damian had even expected Dick to have a perfect attendance award. He didn't have one. Class nerd, and - he looked closer at one of the certificates, _co-captain_ of the mathletes. Damian blinked, rereading the certificates again more closely this time. 

"Hey, Demon. Whatcha got there?" An all too familiar and cheerful voice said.

It was Stephanie. After the Strange, Cass, Stephanie, Barbara, Tim, and surprisingly Jason had decided to stay for a couple of days. Jason just claimed it was to watch the energetic Dick suffer from boredom. The bandages around Dick's head were a chilling reminder of how close he came to kicking the bucket and ending up six feet under.

The public excuse was a motor cycle accident were Dick drove late at night and in his tired state drove off the edge of the road tumbling into the grass/mud and banging his head against a small tree by the side of the road.

Decent enough, considering how often Alfred told Dick his motorcycle was a death trap. 

"Leave me, Brown." Damian said.

She didn't listen. "Are those . . . year books?" She looked confused. "Those don't look like any year books I know. Oh! The dates on them are older!"

_Very astute, _he wanted to remark, but he was uncomfortably reminded of his encounter with Matt Evans. Instead, Damian stayed silent. He closed his eyes as she continued talking, trying and failing to find his patience. 

"Wait a minute! I've seen Barbara looking at this one." Stephanie snatched one of the books. 

"Brown! Give it back!" Damian hissed. "These are not mine."

He was not whining. He wasn't!

She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"They are Grayson's. I am merely borrowing them," he told her hastily. 

"These are Dick's year books?!" Stephanie exclaimed loudly.

He snarled at her, and she sheepishly grinned. 

Her shout attracted the attention of the bored Cass, Jason, and Tim, who were somehow all upstairs without killing each other. The fact that the Manor was so big helped. Drake walked in first, eager to see what the noise was about. Probably half afraid Damian was trying to kill Brown. He dismissed Damian with a glance and turned to the other person in the room.

Damian contemplated chucking the nearest sharp object at Tim, who looked annoyingly put together in a sweater and jeans. He was distracted by the arrival of another person. 

Jason Todd sauntered in next, apparently just as bored. 

Cassandra Cain was next. She said nothing, but a curious glint was in her eyes.

Damian was honest enough with himself to admit he didn't mind her that much. The others, he could live without. 

Especially Brown. 

"Did I hear you say Dick's year books?" Jason asked Stephanie curiously.

She nodded, jerking her head at Damian. "Demon over here was looking at them for some reason."

Everyone now looked at Damian. Irritated, he snapped, "What?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Why do you have his year books?" Almost as an afterthought, he added, "And how did you get them?"

Now Damian rolled his eyes. "I got them from Pennyworth. As to why I require them . . . I was merely curious what Grayson's school years were like after we ran into an acquaintance of his from Gotham Academy."

"Shit, those really are his year books." Jason realized, before smirking evilly. "Gimme that, Stephanie. Bet ya we can find some black mail on Golden Boy. What have you got so far, Hell Spawn?"

Did these people have nothing better to do? 

Stephanie handed over the book before Damian could snatch it back. 

Damian scowled at the nick name. He answered anyways, "Other than Grayson was co-captain of the mathlete, nothing. Most likely he's skipped at least one grade."

Everyone's mouths dropped, all of them thinking along the lines Damian was earlier.

"You're shitting me." Jason said in disbelief.

Damian frowned. "I assure you I am not. If you need any proof, look in the front cover of his freshman year book you grabbed, Todd. You will likely find mathlete certificates."

"No need, Jason."

Everyone jumped, but managed to hide it. They shifted as they turned to face Dick, who had entered unnoticed.

Dick continued, "Yes, I was a mathlete. I was a bit of a scrawny midget. And yes, I did skip a grade, technically two. Now, if I can have my year books back . . ."

Damian looked at Dick in surprise. He took note of how Cass, Steph, and Jason reacted, too, in their own ways. None of them had noticed him walk into the room, which was odd, because while none of them were loud, Dick was easily the easiest to hear. He also just admitted to being a mathlete, a scrawny midget, and skipping a grade, but that didn't erase the doubt the others had. 

Jason, still curious, opened the front of the freshman year book. Dick didn't bother stopping him, only gathered his other year books in a pile to take back to his room. When Jason opened the front cover and gaped at the mathlete certificates, he immediately began questioning Dick about them. Steph stood near them, while Cass and Tim also drifted over. 

A single envelope fell out, unnoticed by them. It slid across the floor, away from the group. Shaking his head, Damian walked over to it. His father wouldn't be happy at their lack of attentiveness. He stared down at the envelope. 

Damian frowned and picked it up. He opened it, and discovered that inside were pictures. He looked at the first one. There was the same thin blue-eyed black-haired boy that was clearly Dick, along with what looked like a younger Barbara Gordon. But there was another girl with blonde hair and grey eyes Damian had never met before. Something about the girl was nagging him. 

Flipping briefly through some of the other photos, he noticed that most of them had the blonde in them.

Why were photos of her tucked away in a yearbook? 

All of them wore the standard GA uniform, he noted, which meant she must've been a classmate.There were likely records on the girl he could find later. 

(The uniform hadn't changed since Dick was in high school. Of course.)

What struck him the most was how happy they all looked in the photo. They were sitting on the courtyard wall of Gotham Academy, having just eaten lunch most likely.The boy was older than Dick's earlier yearbooks, but still clearly young. He looked like a younger version of the man Damian knew. His eyes seemed brighter, as well as his smile. Gordon even looked happier. 

Younger Grayson and Gordon were sitting on the wall. The other girl was on the ground. Most likely the other girl had fallen off the wall, but rather than cry or complain, they were all frozen mid-laugh in the photo. Laughing at some long forgotten joke.

Damian stared, his mind latching onto the mystery and trying to puzzle through it. He flipped the photo over to see if there was anything on the back, but there wasn't.

Glancing over, he saw Grayson was still talking to the others, insisting he was telling the truth and the certificates were not forgeries. He was smiling and joking getting everyone else to crack a smile and go along with it, so they were insisting even more stubbornly the certificates fakes and lies. Dick had that way with people to get them to go along with anything. He could even get quiet Cass to talk.

He turned back to the photo, and Damian stopped paying attention. He clutched the photo and the envelope, waiting patiently. He kept glancing at the photo, like the people in it could give him the answers he wanted. Damian concentrated as an idea hit him, and he looked between the younger Grayson in the photo and the older Grayson standing in front of him. 

Perhaps one of them could. 

It felt like forever before Jason, Tim, Cass, and Steph drifted away. 

Eventually and thankfully they did leave, claiming they had things to do.

Damian was relieved. He turned towards Dick, who was still laughing under his breath, smiling.

Holding the photo out, he asked, "Grayson, who is this?"

"Barbara and me?" Dick blinked in confusion, smile slowly fading as he caught sight of the photo. 

Oblivious man. Or perhaps just a good liar, but the thought troubled Damian. 

"No," Damian shook his head. 

He pointed to the blonde girl. Dick looked to see who he was pointing at. The smile on Dick's face disappeared entirely, and Damian knew the feigned cluelessness wasn't an accident.

Damian narrowed his eyes. 

It'd been a long time since Dick had seen a photo of her. 

The sight was enough to leave him with the feeling he'd just been socked in the gut. 

Dick, of course, knew who the girl was. 

Not that he had any plans on telling Damian. Gently, he pried the photo out of the Damian's hands. 

It was Artemis, the girl who was like his older sister. The girl who was in love with Wally, his sort of older brother at the time. And who Wally was in love with as well. He saw his thirteen-year-old self in the picture. For a second, he wondered where Damian got that picture. Then he saw the envelope in his hand. Dick knew that envelope, remembered putting those pictures in there.

He put them in there because he couldn't stand how painful it was to look at them.

Cowardly, maybe, but at the time, he believed it necessary. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "She was a friend." _She was like my sister_, he wanted to say. But he didn't say it. "She was in the grade above me, and when I was a sophomore and she was a junior . . . She died."

_She was murdered._

"How? And when was this picture taken?" Damian questioned.

"She liked to ride her motorcycle"-_She loved to ride her motorcycle, she always rode it to school the minute she could drive. The school disapproved, but she'd do it anyway, there were no rules against it.-"_And one day, early in her junior year, she was riding her bike and wasn't careful enough. She didn't make it. As for when this picture was taken, it was my freshman year, and her sophomore year."

He knew it was probably too much, but maybe giving Damian this much would keep him away. At least he hoped it would.

To his credit, Damian nodded, digesting this information. He looked back at the photo, before Dick took the photo and the envelope. He put it on top of the year books. Damian wanted to say more, but it looked like Dick wasn't going to talk.

So he stayed quiet as Dick left the room.

.

.

.

Dick sighed as he put his yearbooks away. He held the envelope in his hand. In it, he knew, were multiple pictures of him, Artemis, and them in general. Babs was in a number of them, because she'd been friends with Artemis, too. Dick hadn't thought about the photos in years. Not because he didn't want to, but because it was too painful. 

Way too painful.

Dick knew that Damian was curious, and sooner or later he was going to find out. Dick knew he would have to tell all of them. But he didn't know if he could. Some secrets were buried so deep that you simply can't reveal them. That you didn't even know how, or where to start. There's some secrets you want to keep, some you have to keep, some shouldn't keep, and others you're not ready to say out loud.

There are the ones kept so long that you forget it was even a secret. Everyone forgot them.

Dick himself hadn't thought about them in years.

He tried not to.

He didn't want to know what that made him. 

Dick shut his eyes. He needed to get out of his room. He needed - Dick didn't know what he needed. He grabbed his phone and went to his window, thankful that his room was on the second floor.

As he hung half out the window and half inside, he glanced back, and knew no one would hear him leave.

Perks of being the eldest, his room was on the end, across from Bruce's room. Having a corner room was a little drafty, especially in an old house. But Dick had discovered the window on the wall to the left of his door was great for getting onto one of the Manor's many ledges. When he was younger, Dick loved to go out the ledge and climb on the Manor's ledges. It also made a great pathway to the roof, Dick's favorite spot in possibly the whole Manor.

Outside his room was a huge tree which helped with sneaking out. The second window directly in front of the door only showed the tips of the branches, but Dick knew if you went out the first window and onto the ledge, you could follow the ledge to the right. On the outside corner of his room, the branches were much closer, and thick enough to support his weight as he launched himself at the tree.

This was what Dick did now, and he always landed on the thickest part of the branch, close to the trunk. Sure enough, a perfect landing. Dick climbed down. He started walking, and eventually ended up in Gotham, wet and cold. No one glanced at him twice. He didn't look like anyone noteworthy, and a few people even cast him a suspicious look.

With his jeans, beat up sneakers, and blue hoodie he probably looked like he was up to no good. It probably didn't help that he had pulled the hood over his head to conceal the stupid bandages wrapped around his head. The weather helped make sure nobody bothered him. Everyone just wanted to go home, keeping their own jackets and sweatshirts and coats bunched together against the rain and the cold. 

He felt the rain gradually begin to soak his sweatshirt, and wished he'd grabbed a coat. 

Dick wandered the streets aimlessly until of their own accord his feet took him to an old phone booth that had not been used for years.

Given that it was a phone booth, that wasn't surprise. 

But. 

It wasn't an ordinary phone booth.

He hadn't meant to end up here. He hadn't come here in years. He thought back to the photos in his room, frozen smiles coming briefly into his mind. He pushed them away.

Dick stared at it.

He made a choice and stepped into it.

Pressing a few buttons, he waited.

The flash of light almost felt like home. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick goes back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go, not radically different from FF.net version. Eventually that will be updated with this one, most probably. Also I started writing this years ago before the whole Rick Grayson storyline so yeah. Hopefully this chapter clarifies some of the timeline? Sorry, I'm kind of borrowing, stealing, and bastardizing a lot of canon content and combining it together and whichever way makes me happy.

_ **RECOGNIZED: ROBIN B-01 ** _

It took him a moment to process the designation. Feeling a little stupid and shocked, Dick realized he had never changed his name to Nightwing. He had never gotten the chance. He was tempted to, but he got a feeling of nostalgia. He let it be. With a heavy heart, Dick looked around at Mount Justice. Or at least the inside of it. Known to a select few as the Cave.

Tears pricked his eyes as a feeling of sadness swept over him. This place. This was where it had all started. It was the original headquarters of the Justice League. Then it became something else. Then it became nothing, an empty shell for people who will never walk its halls or secret passages again. It was forgotten. The dust and the stale air attested to that fact. 

Dick only made it into the kitchen area before he realized he couldn't go any further. 

After all these years, the faint scent of burned cookies lingered.

Tears began to blur his vision as he thought of _them _before he could even process that he was crying He sunk down onto the floor, his back to the couch. 

He had not been to this place in years. The silence seemed overwhelmingly. Heh, whelm.

"_You're overwhelmed, Freeze was underwhelmed, why isn't anyone ever just whelmed?" _

_"What is it with you and this whelm thing?"_

Dick chuckled, half-crying. If he listened hard enough, he could still hear the echoes of what once was here. He missed them. So much. Now he could only hear echoes of them, of all the things they went through, good and bad, on duty and off duty. Everything was just too much at once and it felt like the world was spinning and spiraling out of control.

His face twisted with pain, and he clutched at his head. The bandages were rough under his fingertips, and he was careful not to dig into them as his heart ached. 

"_Hello Megan!" _

"_Red Arrow was so wrong-" "-this team thing-" "-might just work out." _

"_Feeling the aster." _

"_ROBIN!?" *cackles in the background*_

"_My cookies!" _

"_I didn't want my best pal questioning my objectivity." "Dude, that's what a best pal's for."_

"_Symbiosi. Together." _

"_ARTEMIS!" _

"_That's not me. I don't wanna be __**the**__ Batman anymore." _

"_I feel so silly. Who knew a Martian could be vulnerable to a human virus?" "Uh, H.G. Wells?" _

"_Is it always like this?" ~~ "It __**is **__always like this!" _

"_Get trought, or get dead!"_

"_Human customs elude me."_

He could still see them. Picture them clearly. Hear their laughter echo in the halls. See them smiling. Hear their voices.

"_Wall-man, huh. What, exactly, are your powers?" _

"_Let go of her, you darn dirty ape!" _

"_I feel naked, and not in a fun way."_

"_No-o-o-o, nothing odd going on here." _

"_A moment of silence for our, ah, absent comrade." "Poor Wally."_

"_Oh, I am __**not**__ nearly drowning three missions in a row!"_

"_Be as chalant as you want."_

"_I HATE MONKEYS!" _

"_I've always wanted an earth sister." _

"_Aww, man, I knew we'd be the last ones here."_

Dick squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered what used to be here. The smell of burning cookies, the melody of laughter, the shouts of anger and the chases that followed. The sounds of a wolf, the whirl of a mechanical sphere, movie nights, video game marathons. All of it was gone now. Existing only within his mind. The knowledge was overwhelming, but he found himself grateful for the time they'd had. 

"_WALLACE RUDOPH WEST!" "DON'T KILL ME?!" _

"_What do you mean you accidently gave them pot brownies?" "Well it's not my fault they ate them."_

"_You get to explain all of this-"*gestures to flaming warehouse* "-to Batman." *laughs*_

"_Move over! You're hoggin' the TV!"_

"_Not if you kidnap me." "Oh, she's gonna fit in great." _

"_Sweet! Souvenir!" _

"_Quit touching yourself!" _

"_Amnesia, remember? I forgot how truly annoying you are." "Oh, like you're the goddess of congeniality?"_

"_Can I keep him?"_

"_**DON'T**__ CALL US SIDEKICKS!" _

It seemed so unfair. No one remembered them. Young Justice, better known as the Team, was forgotten. A painful memory that no one wanted to bring up. They were forgotten. Dick's teammates, his friends, his family, they were forgotten. Barely anyone knew they existed, and some people didn't know the truth about them because they were civilians. Some people would never know. Perhaps they weren't meant to, but they still deserved to know. What use was it bringing up painful history?

He was so very guilty and so very stupid, and it made him feel small. 

He'd left them behind. He didn't mention them. He'd done his best to keep running. He'd decided to come here and had harbored some hope deep down he'd be able to handle it. He was wrong, but he was here now. 

How could he have done that to them?

They deserved so much better than the lives that had been theirs. 

He thought of the photos from earlier today. 

There were no replies to his whispered apologies. 

"_But it never mattered. You aren't your family. You're one of us." _

"_We'll laugh about this someday." _

"_Secret."_

It was just painful to talk about. For everyone involved. Including the League members who knew the Team, even if they didn't have a protégé on the Team.

The Zeta rang out with a familiar destination, but he was too far in his head to process it. Dick heard footsteps in the silence. He didn't bother getting up. He recognized the sound of the newcomer's footsteps.

He shook his head, a bitter smile on his face. 

"_Dick, what was that about?" "Nothing, Barbara, just being friendly to the new girl."_

"_My friends, you act as if I have been away for years when it has only been-" "Two months."_

_*eye roll* "You're still my sister. I don't want you dead." _

"_I have to find the real Roy." _

"_He claims you're his 'blood sister' now."_

"So . . . You're here."

Dick knew that voice as well as he knew his own.

"I couldn't believe it when I had gotten the alert from the system I set up. I came back here a while ago, you know? I still come here sometimes. I set up the alert system just in case someone else came."

Wally West sat down next to him. For who knows how long, they were silent, staring in front of each other. It felt right to have Wally here. To have someone who'd been with him since the beginning. It was a luxury that in their line of work was hard to come by. 

"_Together, on our own, we forged something powerful. Important." _

"_It's KID FLASH, why is that so hard?"_

"_Well, maybe you'll feel more turbed when we kick your can!" _

"_The four of us."_

"_Why let them tell us what to do? It's simple. Get on board or get out of the way." _

"_I like your t-shirt."_

"_Stop it." "What?" "I can feel you glaring at each other."_

"_Feeling the aster." _

"_Pot, kettle. Have you met?"_

"_Well . . . Still not giving her the satisfaction!" "I can hear you!" _

Dick broke the silence. "Yeah. I'm here. I-I haven't been here since . . ." His voice trailed off. "Do you come here a lot?"

"I do." Wally said. "It's where I can think and no one will bother me. And it's one of the places I can be closest to her. Everywhere else . . . They're gone. It's like they never existed."

"Like they never mattered," Dick's voice broke, and he stared down at his hands. 

Wally nudged him. "Dude, they matter to us."

"They do. Do you ever miss them?" Dick asked, thinking it was a stupid question. Of course Wally would miss them.

He still wanted to hear the confirmation out loud. 

"All the time. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if they were still alive," Wally shrugged, and shook his head. "Then I remember that wishful thinking gets me nowhere." 

They both fell silent again, remembering. The silence became awkward as neither could think of something to say. After years of fighting, of placing blame, they were tired of it.

It started out as a few small, hysterical giggles. 

Dick couldn't stop, and he found himself breaking into full-scale laughter. It wasn't happy and his voice was rough and he might've cried around them once or twice, but everything seemed immensely funny all of a sudden. Wally started laughing along with him. Both of them were soon half-laughing, half-crying.

Breathless, he choked out, "It's like-like we're both eleven and thirteen again!"

Wally fell sideways on the floor. "All's we need is Roy-joy telling us to cut the sappy crap before we make him vomit!"

The two looked at each other, falling silent at the mention of Roy. Then they started laughing and crying harder. It _was_ something Roy would do.

It felt good, he realized, to laugh. 

When they were both quiet again, with the occasional chuckle, Dick said, "Hey, Wally?" Wally turned to him. "I'm sorry for not being here. You're my brother, and I wasn't - I wasn't - "

Wally tried to reassure him. "Dude, it's . . . Well, it's not exactly okay, but we all grieve in different ways."

A lump in his throat, Dick nodded. 

"Besides," Wally added, softly, "I wasn't exactly there for you. Big brother's job to take care of the little brother, right?"

Dick shoved him, but since Wally was already on the floor it didn't really do much. "Ass, you're not that much older than me."

Lazily, Wally swatted him. 

Dick gave a short laugh. "I remember telling Damian something similar after I-after I got-"

"Shot in the head?" Wally finished. "By the way, you're a jackass for that. Do you know how worried I was for that? We may not be the best friends like we were, but you're still my little brother. Which makes you my best bro. I have a right to worry."

He felt suddenly more conscious of the bandages, and winced. 

Dick nodded guiltily. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Wally decided to finish his sentence again. "Scare the shit outta me? Yeah, I know. Just don't, don't do it again. Dick, just don't die, okay?"

He could do that. 

Dick nodded.

After that, both of them fell silent once more. They started to think about everything, about what happened.

Dick . . . For once, he enjoyed taking a breather. To have someone at his back, to fix his mistakes. Of course, he wouldn't trade Jason, Tim, or Damian for anything, but Wally, well, he had known Wally practically from the start. Wally was the one who was there for Dick after everything, and probably was one of the few people on the planet who knew everything about him.

Wally was happy that he'd gotten to talk to Dick after so long. He knew that Dick had his own little brothers to take care of, but before he was an older brother he was Wally's little brother. Roy's little brother. Kaldur's little brother. Arty's little brother. The little brother of the Team. Wally didn't want to see his brother break down and fall apart, anymore than Dick wanted to see him break down and fall apart. 

The Team . . . Everything had been going great.

"_I'm liking this Team thing more every day."_

_"Be as chalant as you like."_

_"Red Arrow was -" "- so wrong." "This team thing -" "- might just work out."_

Wally supposed the only thing they did wrong was pose a major threat to the Light. So after New Year's, the Light began to take them out one by one. By the time Dick was fifteen, everyone but Wally and Dick were dead. And the Team started when Dick was thirteen. Understandably, Batman went all over protective. So did the Flash and other Leaguers. Dick didn't like that. Neither were okay with it. Dick eventually ran away. He formed the Teen Titans with Raven, Starfire, Beast Boy, and Cyborg.

A short while later, Wally ran, too. He eventually joined the Titans.

Funnily enough, they couldn't stand each other in the Titans.

They pretended they didn't know each other.

They fought practically every time they saw each other.

The Titans, as far as they knew, thought they hated each other. 

All those years wasted. 

Dick cleared his throat. 

They looked at each other. It showed in their eyes they were thinking the same thing, and they could read each other's minds as if the mental link was still there. Without a word, both of them got up. They smiled sadly at scuff marks on the wall, or even a hole, remembering how it got there.

Together, they walked further into the Cave. 

Silently, they walked down the hallways with the closed doors. They passed Kaldur's first. Then Superboy's. Then Wally's. Then Dick's. And lastly, Roy's. On the other side of the mountain, in a different hallway were another set of doors, this time with the doors on the right instead of the left. They were Megan's, Artemis', Zatanna's, and Rocket's rooms. The silence seemed to weigh them down, thick and heavy. The sadness felt like a fog covering them.

The story of Young Justice was a sad one, both Dick and Wally knew that, they were a part of it.

He gently reached out and skimmed his hands over the name plaques of the doors. 

After New Year's when they defeated the Light and the Light decided to kill all of them, they started to fall. Artemis was the first to be killed. Her father, Sportsmaster, killed her mother one day when he broke into their apartment. She came after him, and he murdered her. They never found the body, they only got pictures of it curtesy of Sportsmaster.

It was just after Valentine's Day. Wally was heartbroken, and became catatonic. Green Arrow just went through the motions of each day. He was alive, but he was dead on the inside. They all were. Red Arrow had been shaken, but he continued his search for the original Roy Harper. Or as he called him, the real Roy.

The original Cheshire, who was Artemis' older sister Jade Ngyuen, found out. She came after Sportsmaster, and allegedly killed him.

Then she disappeared.

"_Dad'll come after you." "Let 'im. I'll disappear, like the Cheshire Cat." _

As far as they knew, the current Cheshire was a clone of the original. According to files Batman found years ago, the clone was made because they needed a test subject, and they used the original Cheshire's DNA. Jade never found out about her clone. The clone got out, or was released, and acted like the original Cheshire, but was missing some major components of Jade's memory. And the nicer part of her personality. She was also slightly younger than the original Cheshire.

The sad thing was, they were starting to change Cheshire. She was becoming the equivalent of what an anti-hero was now. The fact that she cared for her little sister helped, and they eventually adopted her as a sort of honorary more homicidal member. Cheshire had remained guarded a little, because of everything that had happened to her, but she had been coming around.

They'd had hoped. 

For a little while. 

"_Haven't you learned anything? In this family, it's every girl for herself."_

Roy, Red Arrow, was next. He had been desperately searching for the original Roy Harper after learning he was a clone.

"_I was the mole?"_

In that time, he and Cheshire had grown to care for one another and he began to treat Artemis like a younger sister. When they saw each other. To any normal person, their sibling rivalry was a little overboard, but to the Team it was completely normal.

With Cheshire gone and a clone in her place, Roy tried to track down the original Cheshire by finding out where the clone came from. The romance between the two was a strange one, but it worked for them. Roy couldn't just let her disappear, he had to go find her. So he took a break from searching for the real Roy to search for the real Cheshire. He tracked a lead down to somewhere in Tibet. Instead of finding the original Cheshire, he found the original Roy Arrow got the original Roy Harper out.

He didn't get himself out.

Red Arrow was overwhelmed, and they killed him. They disposed of the body, not even letting them have what was left of Red Arrow. The original Roy Harper later became known as Arsenal, and the blue hat he wore was actually once his clone Red Arrow's. If you looked at it closely, you could see the outline of letters advertising Star City's baseball team. Green Arrow had once taken Red Arrow to a baseball game and gotten him that hat.

Arsenal eventually met the Teen Titian's and joined them. Green Arrow didn't respond all that well to him, and Arsenal resented the fact that Oliver had given up on him. So, yeah, not a good relationship. Eventually, he met Cheshire. Or at least, the clone Cheshire, who happened to now be his age.

And, well, the rest is history for Cheshire and Arsenal. Now Arsenal had formed a group called the Outlaws with Red Hood and Starfire. Arsenal didn't know about the Team. Or Red Arrow. He just knew he had been on ice for a few years. He and Nightwing became pretty good friends when they were with the Titans.

Because he had been cryo-frozen, Arsenal hadn't aged, and he was freed about two years before joining the Titans, making him seventeen, nearly the same age as Robin. And the same physical age as Cheshire's clone.

Superboy was next.

Match had been released, and the fight that ensued was devastating. They ended up in a Lex Corp facility. Later, Dick, Wally, and the others found out that was where they were intended to end up. Later was too late, though. They couldn't save Superboy. Luthor unveiled hidden pockets of kryptonite he had in the room, weakening and leaving Match and Superboy vulnerable. Because of the fight, the building had been evacuated. Luthor blew it up. Since he was left vulnerable by the kryptonite, Superboy died along with Match, and his body became ashes. 

The Team treated Superman a little coldly afterwards. Superboy and Superman hadn't been on the best of terms still, despite starting to try at New Year's. Superboy's death happened in April, a few months after the death of Artemis. It was another devastating blow to the Team.

M'gann became prone to crying at every little thing, and kept the mind link up at all times to know where everyone was. It was always a faint presence in the back of their minds. She became as depressed as she was during the failsafe incident, except she wasn't afraid to use her powers.

Rocket was next. One of Ivo's robots did it. At that point, they had given up trying to pretend they weren't coming after the protégés. The mentors were frantic. As a result, they were being overprotective, and they argued with their protégés.

On one such fight, Rocket had flown out to the Grand Canyon alone. They knew this because she had called Zatanna to let her know where she was going, saying she needed to cool down. Icon had wanted her to stop being Rocket. The two had a fight about it. Rocket refused to stop.

Ivo sent his robot, and Rocket called for back-up. Dick, Wally, and what remained of the Team rushed to help. They didn't get there in time. The robot took away her belt, and exploded, killing Rocket and taking a good chunk of the Grand Canyon with it. Rocket died months after Superboy in July.

Now it was Kaldur's turn to be heartbroken. The two had sort of a thing going on. Icon was devastated. He took Rocket in as his own daughter, had allowed her to be Rocket, and now she was dead. He put himself on the League's reserve roster, still publically a League member. Eventually, he was forgotten by the public as new heroes came and he appeared less and less.

And then there were only Kaldur, Dick, Wally, M'Gann, and Zatanna left. At that point, Doctor Fate was freaking out, and Zatara was who-the-hell-knows. Oh wait, Doctor Fate would know. Shortly after Rocket's death, Fate took Zatanna to the mystical realm, and his safe haven in it. He said it was for her training, and to keep her safe. It was the beginning of September when Zatanna left.

The others had kind of expected it. After all, Zatara had become Doctor Fate to keep his daughter safe. Zatanna dead kind of defeated that purpose. It still hurt all of them. Dick took it the hardest, Zatanna was his sort of girlfriend.

He hadn't asked her out officially. He knew she was hurting at the death of her best friend Artemis, and he didn't want to rub it in Wally's face that his girlfriend was alive. So he never asked, knowing it would only hurt Wally to see that he had a girlfriend.

They hadn't heard from Zatanna for years.

After she left, all of the League members were trying to keep it together for the remainder of the Team. At least three times a day, a League member would stop by, and of course Red Tornado was always at the Cave. Black Canary was always at the Cave a lot, but now she ended up being there more.

Meanwhile, for Robin and Batman, things had gotten tenser. Same with the other mentors and protégés. Miss Martian and Kaldur died together, a little over a year after the others. The Light had wanted to wait so the League would loosen their protection.

It had been a simple recon mission, their first mission in almost a year since Zatanna left. It was also a few days before Thanksgiving.

The building they were in went up in flames as they were leaving. Because Miss Martian was still hurting from all of the deaths, Psimon easily breached her mind, and made her set fire to the lab she was in. He made her tell the others to go.

When they were outside the building, they realized the trick. Aqualad raced inside, ordering Kid Flash and Robin to stay outside. They nearly didn't, but Aqualad begged them, saying he would have some peace of mind if he knew they made it.

If only they didn't listen.

They stayed. Kaldur went in. The main generator started to overheat. Some of the chemicals in the building were unstable, and before they knew it, the building exploded. The worst part? Both Dick and Wally were in contact with Aqualad and Miss Martian until the moment the building exploded and they died.

It was horrible. After having the mind link up for so long, they were used to it. It was comforting to know it was there. They could understand each other better with the mind link, since they could feel each other's emotions. Now there was an empty hole in their heads where that faint buzz used to be. There was only silence.

There was no way to put into words how Dick and Wally felt. They both stayed in their own houses, and needless to say, they didn't celebrate Thanksgiving that year. Instead, they cried for all of the friends they lost. They could only assume Doctor Fate told Zatanna that Aqualad, and Miss Martian were dead.

They could only wonder which of them would die next. When Robin was shot by the Joker after disobeying Batman and following him out on patrol, Batman and Robin's partnership reached its breaking point. Strained by all of the deaths and the threat of Dick dying, Batman fired Dick from Robin.

Even now, Wally regretted that he hadn't been there for Dick. It was only a few days after Dick's birthday. He was officially fifteen. He ran away, and Wally also regretted that he hadn't been there then. See, Wally had called after seeing the news, and agreed with Bruce's choice to fire Dick. That really hurt Dick.

Dick formed the Titans, who had no connection at all to the League. Wally eventually plucked up his own courage and ran away. He joined the Titans, and took his school classes online like Dick had been doing. Arsenal joined up, and Wally got along with Arsenal well enough.

He sort of resented the fact that Arsenal took his place as Robin's best friend. Dick hadn't really forgiven him for agreeing with Bruce. Wally and Dick fought a lot, and they sort of became known for not getting along well. Looking back on it, they were tempted to laugh at the irony.

They had gotten along once. They'd been the best of friends. The unstoppable demonic duo. But no one hates you more than someone you once cared about. Young Justice, the Team, was slowly forgotten. The public had never known about them. Helloooo, covert ops team. Well, they weren't that covert, but they were good enough that the smaller villains, crooks, and the public didn't know about them.

Superboy, Artemis, Miss Martian, and Zatanna weren't well known and were regarded as rumors. Maybe if they had lived (or in Zatanna's case, were here), they'd be well-known now. But they weren't alive, and Wally and Dick both tried not to dwell on the might have been's.

Because for all the words written with paper and pen, the saddest are what might have been.

They hated that the world would never know of the sacrifice the members of the Team made. The public knew that Robin and Kid Flash were still around, and they thought Arsenal was Red Arrow with a new name, never mind the fact that Arsenal was clearly younger.

Icon just stopped being a hero, gradually doing less and left until he just didn't do it all. The public forgot about him what with the rare appearances, and they forgot Rocket, too. It wasn't fair.

Wally and Dick came back to the living room. They sat down back by the couch, and they talked about who knew the truth about the Team. And where they were.

If they didn't know, Dick brought up a screen to find out. Despite being years old, the systems were still top notch and they still functioned. They both just talked. Dick had to admit, he missed having Wally at his side. It was nice to be able to turn to Wally for advice like he used to. It was nice just having someone to talk to. 

They talked some more. Dick asked what had happened after he left. Wally told him that Batman disbanded Young Justice officially. Red Tornado shut himself down, and was up in his quarters at the Cave.

Wolf ran off into the woods.

Sphere had remained deactivated, the way she had been since Connor had died.

It made Dick sad that none of the others had known about Young Justice. He had a feeling they would've loved it.

Eventually, the two of them grew tired. 

"I think I'm going to head out," Dick told Wally, "I'll be back."

A promise and a fact. 

Wally nodded contemplatively. "So will I."

"Wolf's still out there," Dick said at the Zeta tube. "Sphere's here also."

He said it offhandedly, like he was commenting on the weather, but Wally knew him well enough to know what he was really saying. What Dick was suggesting they do. 

Both of them hoped Wolf was still alive.

Both of them hoped they could repair the damage they had done to each other.

The members of Young Justice were all but dead. They were all but forgotten. The only ones who remained to remember what once was were Wally and Dick, two original members of the Team. The League had already forgotten. But Dick had found his way back, and he'd found Wally, and neither of them would be turning their backs again. 

They owed it to the Team, who were their family.

"_Today is the day."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done. I'm Tumblr if you want to talk as RingwraithMD, I'm also on FF.net as RingwraithYJLOVER. This story is originally posted there, it's not complete but there's more chapters than here.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really not edited all that much from the ff.net. I'm hoping to get the rest of it up soon, it was mostly the earlier chapters I wanted to edited a little but I'll still read over the rest.

Jason stared as Dick moved with fluid grace, taking out men left and right. He was angry, as angry as Jason had ever seen the happy go-lucky man. It didn't make sense in Jason's mind. Dick was kind and gentle, a fun-loving idiot who had a horrible love life.

He should've known there was more to the man. Jason was an idiot for assuming he knew everything about Dick, about the man who called Jason his little brother. Maybe that was what shocked Jason the most. The fact that the man who called Jason his little brother, tackled him in a hug, and completely mother-henned over him when he got hurt was the same one kicking ass with ruthless efficiency.

It all started when he made a mistake. It was a stupid one, normally one he would joke about with Roy and Kory as one Nightwing would make. He got caught by some of rival of his lackeys'. Him, the Red Hood, kidnapped. Embarrassing. Jason was coming up with plans to get out before accepting that he was well and truly screwed.

He'd just accepted that he'd have to wait for Arsenal and Starfire to realize what was going on and get him out. Nobody would believe these idiots had captured him. Then Dick had come in. And Nightwing had looked pissed. There were ten guys, and Nightwing took all of them out in like, a minute or two before going over to Jason already in mother-hen mode.

Apparently, Nightwing had seen Jason get nabbed by those idiots, which explained why he was here.

Red Hood gaped. Then he felt a new emotion that he had never associated Dick with before. Oh, sure, there were many emotions he associated Nightwing with. Anger and annoyance being one of them. But now he felt a slight prick of fear. It sent a chill down Jason's back, how quickly Dick could switch between emotions.

Later, after enduring Dick going all overprotective big brother (even though Jason was two inches taller), a lecture from him, an explanation to and a lecture from Arsenal and Starfire, Jason lay awake staring at the ceiling. Nightwing and the fight from earlier was still bothering him.

He remembered the Demon caught with Dick's yearbooks earlier a week or two earlier. At the time he was confused about why Demon would want to look through them, but now he was starting to understand. Especially after tonight. Dick wasn't as much of an idiot as he seemed. He could be smart when he wanted to be, just most of the time he was.

Or does he choose not to? A voice in the back of Jason's head nagged. He told it to screw off.

Now he was positive he was insane, if he wasn't already before. The idea bugged him, but then he dismissed it. No way was Dick that good an actor to fake being an idiot for so long. Images of the fight seemed to flash behind his eyes. It was then that Jason remembered something peculiar about one particular move Dick used.

It wasn't any of the moves Jason had ever seen Dick use in a fight. That was saying something, consider how often Jason had fought him, but . . . maybe there was more to Dick then he thought. The thought disturbed Jason. Dick was an open book, the idea that he might be keeping secrets was just plain wrong.

Unnatural. Like a . . . like a bird chasing a cat, or something.

Jason shot up on his bed. That move . . . that he saw Dick use, it was a move Black Canary uses. That was why it was familiar. How did Dick know that move? Something didn't add up. Jason scowled.

.

.

.

Tim was trying desperately to hack into the computer. Besides him, Barbara was trying on another computer. Nightwing was watching the entrance, and alarms were blaring. They were in a small room with computers all along the walls and a table in the middle with a variety of plans on it.

Nightwing, Batgirl, and Red Robin were here because this gang figured out a way to bring drugs into Gotham under their radar. The plans on the table had already been photographed, they just needed to hack into the master computer.

Unfortunately, this gang had connections and hired an apparent genius to do their codes and firewalls, because Red Robin and Barbara were hopelessly lost. And they were the most tech savvy of the Bats. The alarms blaring weren't helping their focus, and neither was Nightwing telling them to hurry up.

The cherry on top was that the alarms were flashing red.

Batgirl snapped, "Why don't you do it?"

Nightwing, irritated, said, "Fine, I will."

Batgirl stepped back in shock as Nightwing pushed her out of the way. "You - You can't hack."

"Doesn't mean I can't try." Nightwing said evenly.

He started pressing buttons at random . . . or so it seemed. Batgirl tried to follow along, and so did Red Robin. They could see that the buttons Nightwing pressed were deliberate however random they seemed. Suddenly a green ACCESS GRANTED sign popped up.

Both of their jaws dropped as Nightwing stepped backwards and gestured to them and the computer. It took a second before they snapped out of it. They got the information, and left.

"Hey, Dick, since when do you know how to hack?" Tim tried to ask Dick casually. It was hours after the hacking incident, and the three were back from patrol.

Barbara was in the girls 'locker room' getting changed out of her costume. Tim and Dick were waiting behind the Batcomputer while Bruce looked over the information they got. Damian, who was working on his motorcycle, nearly dropped the wrench in shock.

"Grayson knows how to hack?!" Damian asked shocked.

Damian had been sure Dick hadn't even known how to work the TV remote.

"Goldie knows how to do what?" Jason asked.

He was here because Alfred asked him over. And fine, that incident with Dick saving him the other day, acting weirdly badass, disturbed him ever so slightly. That didn't mean he was here to possibly talk about the Canary move with Dick.

Not at all.

"Why are you here?" Steph asked as she came down the stairs. Cass followed her.

"I'm here because Alfred asked me to come." It was an unspoken rule to never disobey Alfred. Jason shot back, "Why are you here?"

Steph rolled her eyes, "I'm here because Cass invited me to hang out."

Dick knew he should be cheering at nearly all of them in the Batcave without any of them dying or dead and/or injured, but he was only feeling slight dread. How did he explain he knew how to hack? He stopped hacking after . . . Dick internally winced.

"Well . . ." Tim said. "Back to my original question, Dick, since when did you know how to hack?"

Jason snorted. "So that was the question? Replacement, Goldie doesn't know how to use his phone, much less hack."

Barbara came in dressed in jeans and a green sweatshirt. "Actually, Jason, he does. I was there."

Barbara and Tim explained what happened. The others listen with skeptical expressions on their face. Bruce, unbeknownst to everyone, had turned around in his chair and was watching everyone. He couldn't believe it. Dick had hacked something again? After years of not hacking anything . . .

Dick saw everyone watching him. He shrugged and rubbed the back of his head, a nervous habit he never got rid of.

"Look, guys, I know how to hack, but I'm awful at it, so I don't do it often. That was just a random guess, I had no clue what I was doing, I just kind of reacted to Babs telling me to do it, I pressed random buttons and got lucky. Nothing more, nothing less."

Dick left, heading upstairs, and everyone just kind of froze awkwardly. Dick had seemed nervous, he was rubbing the back of his neck, something they only saw him do when he was really nervous. Confused looks were exchanged between them. On the other hand, Bruce knew that everything Dick said was a lie.

Dick knew how to hack dam well, he made the firewalls on the Batcomputer. Heck, Dick used to hack the Watchtower, Batcomputer, and the pentagon for fun.

"Lies." Cass muttered to herself. In the silence of the room, everyone heard her.

They sent glances toward Bruce, expecting him to explain. Bruce sighed. They weren't going to let this go that easy.

So Bruce said, "I tried to teach Dick how to hack when he was younger, he only learned the basics." And then some, Bruce mentally added. "Look, perhaps Dick figured out how to hack the master computer because the computer only appeared complex."

Bruce headed upstairs. In a rare moment of working together outside of the costume (working together in costume was rare, too) the remaining Bats shared a look. For once, no insults, punches, or kicks were exchanged.

Something was going on, and none of them liked the feeling that they were missing something huge.

.

.

.

He went to the Cave. After that awkward conversation and hacking being brought up, the Cave and the Team had been on his mind. He didn't really care if Wally was there or not, he just needed to be left alone to think. Everyone needed their alone time. Including the social butterfly Dick Grayson.

He surveyed the place in front of him. He breathed in deeply. Dick was in the Cave, and he was dressed in jeans, a black long sleeved shirt, and a light blue unbuttoned shirt, along with his combat boots. He was laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

Dick was tempted to turn the TV onto the static channel Connor had loved so much, but he neglected to. He needed some peace and quiet to think, and Dick knew he'd get it here. After all, this place was empty. Anyone who knew about it wouldn't think to look here for him.

He heaved a sigh as he thought about who knew about the place. At the time of the formation of the Team, there had been sixteen members: Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, John Stewart, Martian Manhunter, Green Lantern, Flash, Zatara, Green Arrow, Black Canary, Red Tornado, Hawkman, Hawkgirl, Aquaman, Captain Atom, and Captain Marvel. Then Zatara became Doctor Fate and joined as Fate, Atom joined, Icon joined, Red Arrow joined, and Plastic Man joined.

Plastic Man was still an active League member, though he never mentioned the Team. Did he know of the Team? Yes, but he didn't know them as well as the others. All the same, the death of the Team hurt Plastic Man.

Icon disappeared gradually after the death of Rocket, eventually stopping being a hero all together once the public forgot about him. Only some of the oldest heroes knew about Icon, and those were also the ones who knew about the Team.

Red Arrow was dead. Doctor Fate (Zatara) retreated into the magical realm, shortly before Klarion did. Atom was also a League member, and like Plastic Man, he never mentioned the Team.

Captain Marvel, and Captain Atom were both still active League members. Hawkgirl and Hawkman only helped the League out when needed, mostly sticking to themselves. Aquaman was changed after the death of Kaldur, whom he considered as an almost son.

Aquaman was still an active League member, but preferred to go by his human name, Arthur Curry, instead of Orin. He was also less responsible, held himself with less dignity. Held the life of Atlanteans above other lives, when Dick knew Orin once considered all lives equal, none more important than another.

Orin also treated Garth, best friend of Kaldur and the second Aqualad (now Tempest) coldly. Dick lost count of how many times Garth complained of fights. Red Tornado hid himself away in his 'room', and deactivated himself. Red Tornado simply requested they leave him alone.

The League left Red Tornado alone, as he had requested. Black Canary became wilder after the deaths of the Team members. Dinah had been close to Connor since she was his mentor for so long, and Artemis and Dinah had gotten close as the only 'Arrow Clan' girls (at the time; now there was Cissie).

The relationship of Dinah and Oliver suffered as a result of the deaths. Before, they had been somewhat steady. Now, they were constantly back and forth. Dinah just mainly traveled from city to city, occasionally helping the Birds of Prey.

Dick knew that Black Canary and Batgirl (Babs) became friends, with Black Canary taking Batgirl on as a protégé. He also knew the problems that came from that, as 'training' Batgirl reminded Dinah of when she was the Team's trainer.

As the Team's trainer and therapist, she was perhaps one of the closest League members to the Team. Red Tornado was also close to the Team, as he was their 'den mother'. Even Captain Atom was close to them, as he was there espionage teacher.

(All of them had been failing that class).

Green Arrow is still an active League member. He was devastated at the loss of Red Arrow. When he saw Arsenal . . . Dick knew Ollie didn't react the way he should have. Ollie constantly expected Roy to act like Red Arrow, and tried to mold him into Red Arrow in a way.

As a result, fights happened between Roy and Green Arrow. It was made worse by the fact that Ollie never told Roy about Red Arrow. Eventually, Roy left, and changed his name from Speedy to Arsenal. Dick's heart had felt like breaking. He had wanted to scream, it's supposed to be Red Arrow!

However, in the absence of Wally (they had a split in their friendship) Roy had become Dick's best friend. Out of respect for him, Dick said nothing.

Flash, Barry Allen, Wally's mentor, died about two years after the Team's disbandment. At the time, Dick was eighteen, and Wally was twenty. To honor the memory of his mentor, Wally took up the mantle of the Flash. He'd been Flash for five years now. Along the way, Bart had become the next Kid Flash (Barry's grandson from the future, apparently), and then switched to the name Impulse.

Green Lantern (Hal Jordan) still worked with the League, but he mostly kept to his own city like the Hawks. Occasionally, he talked to the other League members, or Wally and Dick, but Hal never stuck around long enough to get to know the newer heroes.

John Stewart, Green Lantern 2, became friends with Wally, acting as a substitute mentor when Wally was trying to fill his Uncle's shoes but didn't know where to start. John pointed, and nudged (or shoved) Wally in the right direction. As far as Dick knew, he was still an active League member.

And Dick knew for certain that Martian Manhunter, Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman were all active League members. Even if Batman's relationship with the League had gotten a little rocky. And so much had happened within the years after the Team.

So many new heroes sprung up, along with new hero groups. Heck, Dick had been responsible for one when he ran away, and created the Teen Titans in Jump City. He sighed. He was getting too lost in his thoughts. That was never good.

Dick got up, yawning. He stretched, and went to the table, sitting down. Dick headed for the fridge, and found some fruit punch in it. After the talk they had, Wally and Dick both agreed to keep coming to the Cave. It had been a few weeks since then, and they hadn't really talked since.

They did, however, make an effort to keep the fridge stocked. It was one of the ways they could tell the other had been to the Cave; food was missing. Pouring himself a glass, Dick sat at the table, and he hung his head in his hands. So much had happened since he founded the Titans.

All his thoughts were jumbled in his head, and Dick forced himself to slowly piece together a timeline of what happened after he ran away. It would help him. Maybe. Dick formed the Titans, Wally joined, Jason became Robin, Dick took up the name Nightwing, things with Bruce improved, Jason died and things with Bruce went to hell in a handbasket.

Afterward, Dick struggled. Wally's Uncle died, and then Wally left the Titan's to become Flash. Roy left because of problems with Green Arrow. Roy resurfaced as Arsenal. Garth stayed, but switched to the reserve roster. Cyborg, Beast Boy, and Raven all stayed, though Starfire left to attend to matters on her home planet.

He knew that she had returned, and was part of the Outlaws along with Arsenal and Red Hood. Things for Dick fell apart, and Donna helped. Donna was like his sister, and he met her because of Wonder Woman.

Eventually, Donna began taking breaks. Dick knew she was struggling with finding her role and her desire to support him. So, Dick left for Bludhaven, and started a life there. Shortly after Tim became the third Robin, and Jason came back as Red Hood.

Babs had already become Batgirl, and there were a whole bunch of other things going on that Dick lost track of them all. Like Tim becoming the new leader of the Titans, and making friends with a new Superboy, Impulse, Beast Boy, Raven, and the new Wonder Girl.

Somewhere along the way Stephanie came in as Spoiler, and Cass became Black Bat. And then Damian came, Bruce disappeared, and Dick had to become the very thing he feared becoming when he was thirteen. Batman.

He took Damian in as Robin, and that hurt Tim, who created Red Robin and searched for Bruce.

After a year, Tim had found Bruce. Bruce has only been back for about a year, and despite the disagreements they have, Dick can't help the happiness that he feels knowing Bruce is alive. His life without Bruce had been hard, and he had lost to many people already. Dick would've lost it if it hadn't been for Damian.

Everything in the past year had been pretty crazy as they adjusted to having Bruce back again.

None of the 'Bats' had talked to the League much (then again, the Bats tended to keep to themselves). The League didn't consider the Bats a friendly lot, only necessary allies because of their skill sets. There was a time, Dick reflected, when Bruce could've called the League friends.

Or aunts and uncles for Dick, since he was so young. He practically grew up surrounded by the Justice League as his family. How weird a thought was that, Dick considered, to have the Justice League as extended family. Dick grinned ever so slightly. Looking back, he found it hard to believe everything he did.

So much of it seemed impossible. Then again, when they were kids, the impossible was there everyday life.

No world-threatening crisis had come up. Leaving Dick more time to brood about the Team. He was doing it more so than usual lately, maybe because he saw that picture, maybe because of Damian's insistent curiosity, maybe because of the questions the others had started asking.

Either way, he knew they would kill him when they found the truth. He had no doubt they would find out. They'd be so pissed. Especially Barbara when she finds out he hacked into her systems. In Dick's defense, he only did it when she was mad at him, and he desperately needed info as Nightwing but wanted to avoid her (cowardly, he knew).

The rest would likely murder him for keeping secrets, keeping them off the Titan's until they are at least fifteen when he was on the Team at thirteen (Jason, Tim, Damian), and oh, keeping secrets. And when they learned about all of the missions he did (or even past criminals he went after), he'd never hear the end of lectures about safety.

Dick just knew all of the Bats (minus Alfred, Bruce, Leslie, and Lucius) would turn all of the lectures he gave to them about safety against him. Because of all these reasons, Dick began to mentally write his obituary in his head.

Better safe than sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Tumblr as RingwraithMD, feel free to find me. I'm also on ff.net as RingwraithYJLOVER.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been slowly editing this story, mostly just grammar, though I did edit this one a little more. As I go further up the editing should get faster.

It was a few days from the hacking incident. Tim, surprisingly, had stopped over at Dick's for a talk. The pair were sitting in silence at Dick's kitchen table, untouched case files in between them. The case files had been the supposed reason Tim said he needed to come over, but Dick doubted it. Tim had barely glanced at the files, instead shuffling them around nervously. Occasinoally, Tim glanced down at them and pretended to focus on a paper intently. 

"So I was thinking about the case," Tim said. 

"Tim," Dick said. He raised an eyebrow. 

Tim looked away. Dick knew Tim was stalling. He didn't have to be trained by Batman to recognize it. He was too nervous to ask Dick what he came here to ask. He sighed, exasperated.

Luck didn't appear to be on his side that night, as the door to his apartment was flung open rather dramatically.

On instinct, Dick leapt to his feet, taking a casual fighting stance.

Tim jumped up at the same time, both of their chairs hitting the floor with a loud smack. 

The newcomer snorted. 

"That'll dent your floor," Jason said. 

Tim snorted. 

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, before running a hand over his face. 

"What, no hello?" Jason faked a hurt expression. "I thought you were all about the niceties, _Dick._"

Oh yeah, he defintely had a headache coming on. 

Jason shut the door, waltzing the rest of the way in with a cigarette in his mouth. He sat at the table, putting his feet up on it, accidently knocking the files onto the floor. He looked at them with distaste, clearly recognizing what they were. He pulled out a light, making a move to light his cigarette. 

"Please don't smoke in my apartment," Dick asked wearily. 

Jason frowned and put the cigarette away. 

Tim and Dick stared at Jason, who waved his hand.

"By all means, continue whatever you were doing," Jason shrugged, "I'll talk to Goldie after."

Great. Jason was here to talk to him too. Dick wondered if Damian would be popping up. 

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jason, why are you here?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "I just told you – and, correct me if I'm wrong, you once told me your apartment was always open to me."

Tim choked, coughing, obviously trying not to laugh.

Dick's annoyance grew. Bad enough he had to listen to Tim beat around the bush – don't get him wrong, he loved the kid, Tim was still his brother – but now Jason was here. And honestly, since Jason ditched him last night after agreeing to meet him at the coffee shop Dick wasn't exactly happy with him.

"Yeah, well, you had the chance to talk to me last night," Dick asked, irritated, "Could you leave?"

"Technically," Jason answered, "I never agreed, big brother."

His words dripped with sarcasm. Dick's eye twitched.

"Jason," he snapped, "I mean it. Leave."

Tim made a surprised noise at the sharp tone Dick's voice took. It was kind of scary for his doofus of an older brother to sound like that. Generally, Dick lectured them, adding a corny joke into it. He didn't really snap at any of them.

Jason snorted. "Ooh, I'm so scared. Maybe you should be the one to leave. It's what you're good at, isn't it?"

Jason hit a nerve, and he knew it. Tim watched the two warily.

"Jason," Dick scowled, "Shut up."

"Why?" Jason asked, "You left Bats, didn't you? You left Gotham and Barbara. You left the Titans and Starfire. Face it, Dick Grayson, you're coward. You run and you don't even bother to look back at the people you hurt."

Dick silently fumed, but to his horror he couldn't r deny what Jason was saying. Too much evidence. He flinched as Jason continued,

"You know, for an older brother, you suck shit. You ran from Tim," Jason jerked his head towards Tim, "And left me to help him. How messed up is that?"

Jason looked at Dick challengingly. To his slight surprise, he saw the older man scowling angrily.

Dick gritted his teeth against all the words he wanted to say. 

"You know," he finally said, "You both aren't he best either. You never _listen._"

Something in his voice must've caught their attention, or tipped them off, because both of them fell silent. 

Not the most eloquent speech, or really much of a speech at all, but it had the intended effect. Jason's rage faltered, and instead an almost interested gleam appeared in his eyes as he considered Dick's anger. Tim continued watching, a pained look on his face. Was that really what Dick thought?

Dick, still pissed, continued, "And I'm done trying. If I suck so bad at being an older brother, I'll stop. After all," His voice took on a bitter tone, echoing what the two had told him so many times before, "I'm not your real brother."

Ouch. Tim and Jason couldn't deny that they had both told Dick he wasn't their brother. They hadn't realized how much it apparently meant to the man.

He shook his head. "Forget this. I don't need it."

Dick walked to the door, slamming it on his way out.

.

.

.

Dick sat at an obscure bar - at least, he thought it was one; it was hard to tell beneath the grime and shady customers glued to their usual seats – someplace in Bludhaven. He didn't quite know why he was here. His father – John Grayson, long dead – had once told him to never drink when he was upset.

So a glass of water was in front of him instead of a beer. And he felt – not exactly miserable, but empty.

To be honest, he hadn't expected Jason to show up at his apartment. He certainly hadn't expected to get into a fight with Jason. And Tim. Tim had been there before Jason showed up, and Dick just had to fight with him as well. It was the closest he'd come to really losing his temper in a long time. 

. . . His life sucked.

Dick sighed as he stood up and stretched, taking a moment to pay for his water, and then walking out. He didn't quite feel like going to his apartment yet, nor did he feel like going to the Cave as he had been doing lately. He needed movement. It helped him think.

So Dick, keeping a wary eye out for late night-early morning (he wasn't really aware of the time) turned into the nearest alley, heading up the fire escape. He easily hoisted himself up on the roof, hiding in the shadows of the stairwell doorway as he sat near it.

His legs dangled over the side of the roof, and a breeze ruffled his air. He took a deep breath, the cold stinging his lungs a little. The city air smelled of car exhaust and street vender food, but up here the breeze provided some fresher air.

Dick gazed out at the lights of the city, his expression thoughtful.

Heights always helped him think. Ever since he was a boy in the circus. Even as a Titan, they helped him think. He would go and sit at the top of the Tower, just thinking. Sometimes it was nice to be alone with his thoughts.

But he never allowed his thoughts to stray towards them. He never allowed himself to think of the friends – teammates, family, really – he lost. He was the coward in that regard – the coward Jason accused him of being.

Dick yawned. He stretched once more, standing up. He balanced for a moment on the edge of the roof, a step away from certain death or grave injury. He was almost certain he could survive a fall from this height.

Shrugging, Dick hopped back onto the roof, whistling a soft tune under his breath as he headed back.

His apartment was dark. Not that he had expected people to be in it, but it was too quiet. Something felt off. Dick squinted his eyes, adjusting to the darkness. That was when he realized there was a spinning chair a few feet in front of him, in the space between his table and the living room.

He rolled his eyes when he saw a shock of red hair over the top of the chair.

"Expecting someone?" Wally asked, a serious expression on his face. It was ruined by the smile he cracked a moment later. "I've always wanted to do that."

He rolled his eyes once more at Wally's childish antics.

"Nah," Dick answered, "But your village called. Their idiot is missing."

Wally rolled his eyes. "That joke? Really, man?"

He shrugged, frowning as a thought occurred to him.

"Where'd you get the chair, anyways?"

"Tim's room," Wally answered. "And dude, you must be out of it. What's up?"

"The ceiling, the sky, the lightbulbs, the roof . . ." Dick smirked.

Wally pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed, giving Dick a look.

He said, "Dude. Seriously. Tim called Bart, asking if you had come to the Titans."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "And you just happened to be nearby?"

"That's beside the point," Wally waved his hand dismissively, "The point is, the last time the Bats asked for help finding you without you being kidnapped - mind you this was when it was just Bats – was when you ran after the fight over Robin with Bruce."

He wanted to argue that he didn't run, but found he found he couldn't really argue. He had run. Jason was more right to call him a coward than he had realized. Noticing Dick's silence, Wally frowned. He quickly put the chair away and dashed off.

"I – figured I'd check on you. Knowing you, you'd come back. You always do," Wally said simply. Plainly. Like it was fact.

Dick frowned as the speedster left. He had some graves to visit. Apologies to say. But, first – sleep. He collapsed on his couch.

.

.

.

He stood in front of the graves. He didn't have a headache, which he supposed was one good thing about drinking water at a bar, but he still wore dark glasses anyways. The slight stubble on his face was gone. His black hair was a mess, and a stronger breeze from yesterday kept messing it up more.

Dick wore some ripped jeans, a grey T-shit, and his beat up Gotham Knights jacket. It wasn't that cold out, but the breeze made it a little chilly. He shivered, pulling his jacket around him tighter. He clutched the roses in his hand, ignoring the pricks of the thorns digging into his skin. He'd have little cuts, but they'd heal. 

Thorns. Roses.

_Every rose had a thorn._

Dick's lips twitched at the thought. His mom, Mary Grayson, had always liked that saying. John Grayson, his father, liked to joke the rose was her and his Aunt Karla. His eyes found their graves, along with the grave of his cousin, Johnny Grayson.

Aunt Karla would've had a heart attack at the beat up way he was dressed – his mom would've, too. Dick shook his head. No use dwelling on that. He was here, and they were . . . wherever. He carefully walked up to each of the five graves, laying a rose on each one.

Finally, Dick sat on the grass in front of his parent's graves.

"Hey, Mom," His voice cracked, "Hey, Dad. It's been a little while since I've visited like this."

That was true. His visits as he grew became less frequent, moving from every few weeks or so to only holidays and the anniversaries. Now he only visited on the day they died. It had been a while since he came just to be here.

"So I've made a few mistakes," Dick continued, "And I . . . I could use – someone."

Wally might listen, but this . . . this was something he needed to tell them. Maybe they would hear.

In a quiet voice, Dick told them everything that had happened since his last visit – everything. Including the recent stuff about the photos and yearbooks and campfires. And then, in an even quieter voice, one filled with sorrow and regret, he told them what happened to the Team.

He could never bring himself to tell them before. Maybe it seemed silly, but he knew his Mom would've loved them. He knew she would've taken their losses hard. It was never the right time – (there was no such thing, a part of him whispered) – and if he was honest, he was still coping with the losses himself.

Grief had no time limit, and Dick had never allowed himself the chance to mourn. 

After he was finished, Dick sat there for a while, cross-legged. He tried not to let the tears fall. Even so, a few slipped past.

When he was gone, the only trace of his presence was were the roses left on his parents' grave. 

.

.

.

A pit of nerves churned in his stomach as he stared at the building across from him. Commissioner Gordon's house. It was Wednesday nights, and Dick knew Barbara usually had dinner with her father. Maybe he should go to her apartment first, but he had a gut feeling that was not where she was.

Usually, his instincts were spot on.

As he continued staring at the building apprehensively, part of him wanted to chicken out and continue avoiding Barbara. A stronger part of him told him to stand his ground – a part of him that, he felt, he had kept locked up since he joined the Titans.

That part of him was the one that made him incredible as Robin. It was the part of him that had a strong drive, a desire to know more and a desire to protect. Sure, he had that as Nightwing, but it was weaker compared to the past.

It was also the part of him that stopped him from being absurdly reckless. Yeah, he was reckless now, but . . . more so.

Dick took a deep breath, steeling his nerves. His face set into a determined expression, and he didn't look back as he crossed the street and knocked on the door.

Jim opened it. He wore a light blue dress shirt, and slacks, along with loafers. Probably just came from work. Behind him, through the door sized opening, Dick could see Barbara at the table. She scowled when she saw him, turning back towards her food.

"Commissioner Gordon," Dick said politely. "May I come in?"

Jim looked him suspiciously, before opening the door wider and allowing Dick to walk into the library. His reddish brown hair was a little greyer than before, as was his mustache, but his eyes, hidden behind his glasses, were as sharp as ever.

Jim hadn't exactly liked Dick ever since he broke up with Barbara before leaving, and then coming to Bludhaven starting an on-again, off-again relationship with her.

"What would you like?" Jim asked a little grumpily, trying to be polite.

He took another deep breath. "Can I speak to Barbara?"

Jim raised an eyebrow, but Barbara – still sitting at the table and looking down determinedly at her food – immediately said,

"No."

Dick internally sighed.

"Barbara," He said seriously, "I'm not asking you to give me a chance, because you've given me plenty. Just . . . hear me out."

"No." She didn't even look at him, though she nearly looked up in surprise at the chances part.

Jim watched their interaction curiously. Unbeknownst to be Dick, he studied the boy he had watched become a young man. And he saw . . . something there. Maybe in the way he held himself, or the frustrated, slightly desperate expression on his face as he asked Barbara to hear him out.

Jim interrupted their conversation – argument, really.

"Barbara – listen to him. If you don't like the words he's saying . . ." Jim shrugged, walking into the kitchen and dining room with Dick trailing behind. He strapped his gun holster to his belt, the gun inside it and probably loaded.

Dick nearly gulped, but refrained from doing so. He saw Barbara smirk.

"Thanks, Dad," She told Dick, "For him, not for you."

They went up the stairs to her room, and Barbara made sure to leave the door open.

"Talk," She ordered him, a guarded expression on her face. She glared at him.

And so he did.

"I'm sorry for avoiding you," Dick said, "I'm sorry for so many things."

"That's it?" Barbara asked, interrupting him. "I'm sorry? Do you know what that does? Jack shit, Dick."

He winced. Okay, he deserved that.

"I realize that," Dick said, "But . . . Can we just . . . try to be friends again? Because I miss my friend, Babs."

She flinched when he called her Babs. He hadn't really done that in a while. Mostly, they dated, things were good, then they screamed at each other and broke up, eventually repeating the process. She bit her lip nervously, thinking carefully.

As much as she hated to admit it, she missed her friend too. Dick Grayson. Not whoever the hell he pretended to be the past few years. She missed the guy who blushed when one of their friends talked about something rude or vulgar, the one who tried not to curse for fear of Alfred.

She missed the guy who was honest with her. And as she stood in front of him now, she thought she could see that guy. It was written on his face, in the earnest expression that was there along with the hopeful, wary gleam in his eyes.

He looked a bit like a lost puppy. Barbara struggled internally with herself. She was torn.

Maybe she would regret this. But it was with a resigned sigh that Barbara crossed her arms and lessened her glare.

"Fine," Her tone turned sharp, "But no funny business."

Dick sighed in relief. "Agreed, no funny business."

"Well, that went well," Jim said.

The two jumped. They spun around, and saw the police Commissioner standing there, his hand on his gun.

He looked at Dick. "I thought for sure I'd have to shoot you."

Barbara snickered.

Dick shifted uncomfortable. "Um, uh, thanks for . . . not shooting me?"

Jim chuckled. "No problem, Dick. Now, would you like some dinner?"

Barbara shot a death glare towards her father, who just shrugged. She sighed.

"Yeah, sure," Barbara said, "We have enough food."

Dick relaxed. He smiled, honestly and a little shyly. Barbara nearly raised an eyebrow. Dick Grayson wasn't shy. At least, not usually.

She smiled back at him curiously, before the smile morphed into a smirk.

"Race you to the kitchen!" She called out to him as she stood for a split second in the doorway.

Dick looked surprised for the briefest moment, before he raced after her.

"Hey! No fair!"

Jim, left alone, shook his head. "Kids."

.

.

.

"Damian," Batman demanded once Damian came out of the locker room, "What's wrong?"

The boy was dressed in comfortable sweatpants and a loose shirt. It had been a long patrol. Damian had beat up a thug a little too forcefully. Of course, he had a perfectly viable excuse for that.

"Nothing," Damian grumbled, "I was just doing my job."

Batman pinched the bridge of his nose. He saw Alfred behind Damian, watched the pair with a critical look. Once Alfred saw him looking, he gave Batman a stern look.

"Father? Father!" Damian shouted.

Bruce snapped back to attention. "What?"

Damian rolled his eyes. "I said I'm going back upstairs."

"Damian, wait!" Bruce called out, but Damian ignored him.

He clenched his teeth and leaned against the Batcomputer table. Alfred walked up beside him.

"Alfred," Bruce sighed tiredly. Kids were exhausting. "What do I do?"

Alfred gave him another reprimanding look.

"Master Bruce," He said, "Master Damian is upset, I believe, because earlier he reached out to you for information regarding some of Master Richard's past, and you declined to answer, ignoring him entirely."

Bruce frowned. "That's because it is Dick's past to tell."

Alfred shot Bruce a look. "Then why did you not tell Master Damian this, sir?"

Bruce scowled. "I don't know."

He pinched the bridge of his nose again. He felt a headache coming on. Bruce made for the locker rooms. Alfred rolled his eyes and went back up the stairs, knowing there was nothing for him to do except make some food.

From his spot on the stairs, Damian quickly scurried up them. He didn't dare look back as he ran out the secret entrance, eventually running up the stairs and stopping outside the door to his room. He was no longer in costume, having taken that off before his father talked to him.

But, he feared his sock clad feet were a little loud on the floor. Damian listened carefully for any noise that would indicate Pennyworth was following. He entered his room, sighing as he closed it and leaned against it.

So he was right. There was something there they weren't telling him. Damian frowned thoughtfully. Well, he would know what it was soon enough.

They couldn't keep it from him forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited the fight between Dick, Jason and Tim because in hindsight it felt OOC. I think part of the reason was prolly because I was a little angry while writing it, and that came through in the writing. The spirit of the chapter remains the same though.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a few days since Dick had reunited with Barbara.

He was knocking on a door to a crappy apartment, knowing full well only Jason was home. Worry, nervousness, anxiety seemed to crush him with their weight. He shifted from foot to foot, his hands shoved into the pockets of his faded, worn jeans. He wore a comfortable navy blue hoodie, his hair messed up and a pair of sunglasses crookedly resting on his nose, obscuring his eyes and some of his face.

He looked nothing like the neat haired, smiling adult adopted son/ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne. That was kind of the point. He didn't feel like being Richard Grayson-Wayne. He felt like being himself, and Dick had the unsettling feeling he hadn't been himself in a very long time. Plus, Jason's apartment wasn't in the nice part of Gotham (as if any part of Gotham could be nice; perhaps more dangerous than other parts of Gotham was better).

Dick winced as he heard a thud and a muffled curse from within the apartment.

_"ROY!"_ Jason yelled from inside, _"I told you not to forget your dam key!"_

Dick shook his head, slightly surprised the apartments in this abandoned building even had locks.

_"Why the hell,"_ He heard Jason grumble loudly to himself, _"do we even bother locking the door? This place is boarded up." _

Snorting, Dick answered through the door, "Jason, you know that the abandoned buildings in Gotham aren't really abandoned. Hell, the warehouses are the villains default for everything. Traps, meetings, business, etc."

He could almost hear Jason freeze on the other side of the door, almost able to see in his mind's eye Jason's hand on the door knob.

"C'mon, Jason," Dick asked impatiently. "Let me in. We need to talk."

_"Like hell_," Jason snapped, his voice less muffled now that he was angry and closer to the door.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm pretty sure Kori and Roy would be mad if I broke the door down. At the very least, you'd have to explain why the door's broken."

" . . . Fine."

A minute or two later, Dick stood facing Jason in the living room, which consisted of a (hopefully not stolen) TV and one torn up couch with a blanket thrown carelessly over it. Despite that, the place had a comfortable feel to it, like a home. Jason made no move to sit down, leaning against the wall behind the TV. He glared at Dick with his arms crossed, wearing only a tank top and cargo pants, his cargo boots still on.

Jason's black hair stuck up funnily on one side, the white bang stark against the black, and Dick realized he'd woken Jason up. The younger man looked like he'd collapsed when he came home as Red Hood, and hadn't bothered to change out of his uniform all the way. Vaguely, it reminded Dick of Jason's Robin days, though he never knew Jason well-enough then. He'd been too mad at Bruce to really come over often, though he'd tried to be kind to Jason. 

Part of Dick simply ached at the vaguely familiar habit Jason had. Alfred used to yell at Jason for it.

"So," Jason said. His voice was clearer now, no longer muffled behind the door. 

He didn't have to add the, _why the hell are you here?_

Granted, Jason would probably use more curse words when asking that question.

Dick nervously rubbed the back of his neck, before sighing and crossing his arms.

"We needed to talk about a couple of days ago," He admitted.

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," Jason said bluntly, "Or cry and go all teary-eyed spouting a bunch of family crap and earn my nonexistent forgiveness, because I don't need it. Talk to Tim."

He opened his mouth to say something, to protest, to attempt to explain – but he didn't have the chance to speak.

"Now," Jason continued, "Tell me how you found this place, and then get out."

"Look," Dick said, "Jason, I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry."

Jason said nothing, looking stonily at Dick.

"I'm only human, Jason. We have flaws," Dick sighed tiredly. "And I swear I'll talk to Tim after this, but he's been avoiding me."

Jason snorted, but said nothing. He knew possibly better than anyone that people had flaws, having learned that as a street kid and in his line of work as Red Hood. It was a lesson he kept learning, until Jason figured out that people couldn't really be counted him - not when it came to him.

"Everyone has a breaking point, okay?" Dick explained, "You have one. I have one, and I reach it sometimes. I can't – I can't be happy all the time. I'm only human, alright? I'm allowed to breakdown, especially when there's this crushing weight that just . . . won't leave."

Jason blinked, his green eyes slightly wide, before they narrowed. Dick was turning to leave, having told him to call him if he needed. He hesitated momentarily, knowing talking to Dick meant the acrobat would stay longer and Jason knew he was ruining his chance to get rid of him.

Jason threw caution to the wind.

"That move," he said, "The one you did a while back. When you . . . got me out a tight spot with those goons."

Dick didn't say anything, turning around in slight surprise. He knew immediately what Jason was referencing. All those months ago, Dick had thought he'd seen surprise from Jason when Dick helped him. Dick was good at reading Jason behind the mask. He'd brushed it off as surprise that he helped Jason, not really thinking about it. Looking back on it, he shouldn't have.

He was mildly surprised Jason waited this long to question him. Usually, when Red Hood wanted something, he acted impulsively. He wasn't known for his patience.

"How'd you know it?" Jason demanded. "It was one of Canary's, you shouldn't know it."

Dick huffed a little.

"Jason," he said, "I grew up practically surrounded by the Justice League. I learned a thing or two from them now and then."

* * *

"This," Wally declared, "Is a supremely stupid idea. I think you've lost it, dude."

He continued tripping gracefully over tree roots, his arms flailing as the redhead struggled to keep pace with the acrobat, who somehow avoided every single tree root in the near pitch black. The flash light in his hands landed on random trees each time his arms waved around. He felt like he was overheating in a dark green coat and jeans. His sneakers were muddy, and he frowned as he thought about that briefly.

Wally couldn't believe he let Dick talk him into . . . this. Strolling in the woods around the Cave at night (having gone out the back exit) looking for Wolf.

Seriously. He was sure his friend had lost it.

"Shut up and help," Dick said. "And you can't lose what you never had. I dress up in a skin tight suit and beat the crap out of people at night. In what world is that considered to be a sane, normal pastime?"

Wally cracked a grin, "We're superheroes. We've redefined normal."

Dick rolled his eyes, slowing his pace a little. He knew Wally wasn't used to watching where he was going. In the day, Wally could pick the flattest route through the forest, his mind going faster than his feet and moving automatically to avoid the roots. At night Wally going through a forest was a very different story. Plus, Dick could see pretty well in the dark. One of the side effects of fighting crime mainly at night.

He resisted the urge to laugh as Wally tripped over yet another tree root, nearly going head first into a tree.

"Some friend you are," the speedster grumbled. "Stop for a minute, will you?"

His hand was on the tree, while Wally was squinting at his other hand.

"I think I cut it on the tree," Wally sounded genuinely confused. "How is that even possibly?"

He didn't bother trying to answer the question. At this point, Dick accepted that if there was a Wally, there was a way. If that meant scraping yourself on a tree, then so be it. He internally rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to mention trees were soft like pillows.

Dick shrugged, "Alright."

He sat on a nearby log, brushing his hands over his jeans. Dick put his hands into the coat pockets of his black coat, pulling out the hood of his red hoodie a little more so it was around his neck. He set the flashlight down, turning it off, while Wally left his on. The redhead stayed against the tree. Dick grabbed a plastic water bottle and his phone out from the small, drawstring bag on his back.

It said GOTHAM ACADMEY MATHLETE CAMP on it in bright letters, one of those cheap, throwaway bags that shouldn't last long but did. He turned the flashlight in his phone on, wincing at the light and setting it so the phone was facedown while the light was face up on the flatter part of the rock. Dick quickly put the clear plastic water bottle over the light, the light shining in the water acting as a lamp.

Wally smirked as he looked briefly at it. "Never stops being cool."

Dick smirked briefly too. He reached once again into the bag, pulling out another water bottle. This one he tossed to Wally, who used it to rinse the healing scrape on his hand (he didn't want bits of dirt healing in the wound – accelerated healing had its downsides) and took a drink from it.

"Are you even sure Wolf is still in the area?" Wally asked, munching on some granola bar he managed to magically produce from one of his pockets.

Dick blinked, having not noticed the granola bar being brought out. He was too lost in his own thoughts, and a little bit exhausted too. He gratefully accepted the second bar offered to him, eating it to get rid of the gnawing hunger in his own stomach.

"Yeah, probably." Dick said, "I mean, Wolf considered this place – the Cave – home. He wouldn't just leave."

Wally shrugged. "How do you know? Wolf could've taken a road trip to Canada or something and stayed out in the wilderness there."

Dick glared slightly at Wally.

Annoyed, he said, "I'm pretty sure most wolves have a territory of around sixty miles. I read it somewhere. Since Wolf considered the Cave home, he'd be close by."

"Somewhere? That's reassuring. And sixty miles?" Wally asked, staring at him incredulously. "I'm not walking sixty miles through the wilderness at night. I refuse."

"No one asked you to be out here," Dick argued.

"Um, you did," Wally pointed out.

He winced. Wally had him there.

"Still," Dick said, "I didn't force you to come. Some part of you wanted to."

"Yeah," Wally admitted, "Some part of me did."

A very small, very irrational part of Wally that he really needed to listen to less often. Silence stretched between the two friends. Eventually, Dick stood up and Wally straightened himself out from leaning against the tree. They quickly put away the water and Dick's phone, starting to walk back.

Wally, of course, broke the silence. "So, are you really giving up dating for the time being?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm not dating anyone right now."

The redhead looked at Dick, his emerald eyes flashing with doubt.

"But, dude," Wally tried to explain, "Really? You're like, known for dating a lot of people and having a generally awful love life."

Dick snorted. "Are you trying to say I'm a manwhore?"

"Would you punch me if I said yes?"

"No."

"Then yes. You are a bit . . . fickle when it comes to your women. You fall in love easily. OW! You said you wouldn't punch me!"

"I lied," Dick rolled his eyes, "And I punched your arm. It can't hurt that bad. Wimp."

Wally dramatically clutched his arm, pretending to be in pain as he shuffled forward, which resulted in him tripping over more tree roots than usual. Dick laughed at Wally's antics as they reached the back door of the cave.

They heard the howl out of nowhere. A very loud, very close howl that made them shut up immediately.

"Dude," Wally breathed out, having immediately stopped laughing.

Dick had stopped laughing too, both of them in silent shock. With a start, he realized he could see Wally's face more clearly.

"We need to go," Dick said, not very enthusiastically, "The sun's rising. We need sleep."

Wallly frowned at the reminder, suddenly more aware of how exhausted he was and grateful Saturday's existed. It meant no work for him or Dick today. After this little adventure, that meant Wally sleeping the whole day away. Something his Mom used to yell at him for.

Still, even as they went (reluctantly) inside, the two of them cast wistful, almost longing backwards glances at the woods.

* * *

"Here," The librarian dropped a stack of newspapers on the desk in front of her at the public library.

Damian, disguised in ripped jeans, a black sweatshirt, sunglasses, and one of Dick's baseball caps (he 'borrowed' it a while ago) eyed the stack of newspapers with distaste. He'd finally gotten the chance to go down the library like he'd been intending to for a while now. Alfred had been cleaning the Manor, and Bruce was at work. Damian took it upon himself to do a little research.

He didn't need Drake's computer skills to retrieve info. Damian had absolutely no desire to involve Tim. After all, libraries kept old newspapers. Damian guessed they would have newspapers from Dick's Robin days, so he'd asked the librarian for those newspapers. He just . . . didn't expect so many.

"Well?" The librarian asked, slightly impatient.

Damian picked up the stack of newspapers, stuffing them into his book bag, which he'd emptied to carry the newspapers. He grimaced as he put them into his book bag. So. Many. He really wasn't looking forward to the long hours ahead reading cramped writing. But they - Dick and Bruce and Alfred - weren't going to tell him everything, or anything in the case of Bruce. Damian had to take the hard way and do it himself.

Besides, a tiny part of him was still mad at Dick for leaving. And where was the fun in simply asking something?

"Don't ruin those," The librarian grunted, "And make sure you return them on time."

Damian sighed, mourning any lost future free time, and began to walk out of the library.

* * *

"C'mon, Sphere!"

Dick pushed the metal ball, attempting to get it to move or at least do _something_. Wally was leaning against the wall, eating a bowl of ice cream. He looked relaxed in a long sleeved green t-shirt and a pair of jeans along with his still muddy sneakers. He looked thoroughly amused by the acrobat's attempts. The two had decided to try to get Sphere working if they were going to search for Wolf (beyond the howl they heard a few nights ago, they hadn't had much luck finding Wolf).

It wasn't working too well. Sphere remained stubbornly inactive in the hanger, a little way away from the silent bioship.

"What if Sphere, like, died?" Wally wondered.

Dick stopped what he was doing, wiping his hands on his jeans and tank top.

"Wally. Seriously." Dick said.

"I'm serious!" Wally protested. "What if his wiring rusted on the inside or something?"

Dick rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure the people who created spear invented something to prevent that."

The speedster grumbled something unintelligible.

"What's that?" Dick asked, feigning surprise. "You have an idea to try, Wally? Be my guest."

Wally glared slightly at Dick, but sped away, placing his empty bowl in the kitchen, before speeding back. Dick stepped backwards to sit with his back to the wall. Wally alternated between lightly kicking Sphere and shoving her, or tapping her.

"So," Dick started, "You've dealt with moody teenager little brothers, right?"

Wally glanced over at Dick.

"Dude," he said, "I had to deal with thirteen-year-old you. I think that counts."

"Close enough," Dick decided. "How'd you talk to me when we fought?"

"We didn't really fight," Wally gave him an odd look.

"Wally."

"Fine," the redhead sighed. "I kind of had to corner you, because you'd avoid me as much as possible. You'd ignore me if I was there."

"Great," Dick muttered, thinking about Tim.

"Is this about one of the Bat bros?" Wally asked.

He shrugged. "Tim."

"Ah," Wally grimaced, "Well, I'm not the best to be giving advice about how to talk to teens."

"What do you mean?" Dick asked.

"Bart," Wallly answered, sounding frustrated. "He spends most of his time with the Titans, and when he's with me we fight."

Dick said reassuringly, "You'll figure it out."

"Yeah," Wally agreed half-heartedly, not really wanting to talk about it anymore.

He shoved Sphere once more.

"C'mon," he said, "Work! Work, you stupid piece of – OW!"

Dick burst out laughing when Sphere somehow shocked Wally, the metal surface sparking still after Wally jumped backwards, rubbing his arms.

"At least we know she still works," he said gleefully.

Wally glared at Dick. "Shut up."

* * *

"Red Robin!" Nightwing shouted. "Red. Robin!"

He was running on the roof tops, following Tim and attempting to talk to him. Dick had been unable to talk to Tim by showing up at Tim's apartment, or offering to drive Tim home from school. Tim successfully managed to avoid him practically everywhere.

At least until Dick decided it was a great idea to show up randomly tonight – dressed as Nightwing, of course – in Gotham. Batman would want to have a word with him, but considering it's the first time Dick's seen Tim since he yelled at him, the acrobat considered it worth it.

"Don't make me yell your real name!" Dick yelled out. Something in his voice must have made Tim believe the threat, because Red Robin turned around.

He glared at Dick, hissing, "You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me," Nightwing challenged, smirking slightly. He lost the smirk, and said, "Besides, it's not like anyone's around to hear me."

He gestured to the clearly empty rooftop, slightly isolated from the surrounding rooftops, and not in use. It was one of the older, Gothic style work buildings that seemed to fill the older parts of the city.

Tim rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just leave. I don't want to talk to you."

"Of course you don't," Dick agreed, "I wouldn't want to either. Which is why I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen."

Tim blinked, momentarily stunned. He'd expected Dick to ask him to talk with lots of pleading and puppy dog eyes. Something about the understanding tone he heard in Dick's voice gave him a pause. He considered it.

"Two minutes," Red Robin said, counting down the time in his head.

Dick floundered, panicking a bit as he searched for the right words to say. He hadn't gotten this far in his mental plan to corner Tim. He honestly expected Tim to have left him on the rooftop by this point.

"Uh," Dick said, very intelligently. Tim gave him an impatient look underneath the weird earless cowl.

"Ti – Red Robin, I shouldn't have done or said what I did. I'm sorry." He said honestly.

Tim was quiet for a moment.

"Sorry?" He burst out, keeping his voice down. Frustrated, Tim asked, "That's all you have."

Dick shrugged. "What am I supposed to say? 'Cause if there's some notecard that tells me that, I'd be happy to read it. But this is about more than that."

"What?" Tim asked, sounding defensive. His posture was tense, his face guarded and wary.

"I'm talking about Robin – I'm sorry for that fiasco, I'm sorry I haven't been there for you, I'm sorry," Dick broke off, growing agitated.

"I don't want to talk about that," Tim said stubbornly, "It's in the past."

"It's clearly not if it gets to you so much that you don't want to talk about it," Dick stated. "Look, Tim. I'm human. I make mistakes, okay? I have a breaking point, like I told Hood. I snap sometimes, and lately with everything that's been going on . . ." Dick's voice trailed off.

Tim blinked rapidly at the moisture in his eyes and the lump in his throat, every curse he knew running through his mind. Since he knew Jason Todd, he knew plenty.

He cleared his throat, telling Tim, "I shouldn't . . . shouldn't have snapped at you and him. It was unfair for both of you."

Dick chose not to speak, knowing Tim needed some time to think over his words. Red Robin appeared to be thinking. He hadn't fled the roof yet or punched him, so Dick considered that a good sign. He was about to start juggling his escrima sticks when Tim finally spoke.

"Then what's going on, Dick?" Tim asked him, his voice weary. "If it has you this stressed."

_Ghosts, _Dick wanted to say, _reminders of a past long gone._

A past that won't leave him alone, Dick thought with a tinge of bitterness.

He dimly noted in the back of his mind Tim didn't say anything about anything else he said – choosing, instead, to focus on the 'everything' he mentioned.

"Nothing," Dick forced himself to say, "Nothing at all."

Tim didn't really seem to believe him, but Dick grinned, even though he wasn't feeling particularly happy at the moment. He did that too often. Smiling when he wasn't happy. Tim believed it easily enough, confident that Dick was a bad liar and an even worse actor. Sometimes Dick suspected most of the others forgot he spent most of his early years in a circus, and the other years with the League and the Titans.

And them.

"Okay," Red Robin said, snapping Dick out of his thoughts.

It was Dick's turn to blink as he realized he'd gone silent for a moment or two, though the lapse in conversation didn't even last a full minute. He was getting too thoughtful lately. Too sentimental and mournful. It wasn't what he was used too for him, but it felt more real somehow.

Dick shook his head only slightly. Tim didn't question it, thankfully.

This talk was leaving him with too much to think about. Dick expected a headache, but there was none. Only a strangely light feeling, like a weight was gone now that he was talking to Tim for the first time in a while, not counting the shouting match. They hadn't talked, like actually talked, in forever.

Slightly sarcastic, Tim asked, "Anything else?"

Red Robin was edging towards the other end of the rooftop, ready to leave. Dick knew his time was up. They'd have to talk more, but not now.

"Yeah," Nightwing smiled once more, this one more genuine, "Lose the cowl. It looks weird."

He jumped off the roof with Red Robin shouting an insult behind him. Nightwing really shouldn't stay in Gotham for patrol, there was Bludhaven to think about, but he couldn't resist. It was only one night. He was already here. Batman hadn't popped up yet demanding he leave.

So Nightwing jumped, throwing caution and common sense to the wind as he eventually shot out his grapple and swung.

An elated feeling, one that made him want to laugh, bubbled up from within him, and Dick grinned, wild and free. The wind tore at his black hair, stinging his face with the cold and the sounds of the city surrounded him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really not edited all that much.

_"Robin, Wally, hold still!" M'gann scolded the acrobat as she pressed a few buttons on the camera, which was hovering in mid-air. _

_Robin smirked, and Wally winked at M'gann. _

_"For you, anything," Wally joked. _

_Kaldur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Superboy frowned in his position next to Kaldur. Artemis, who stood in between Kaldur and the two pranksters, face-palmed. _

_"Can we just get this over with?" Artemis said. _

_"Hold on," M'gann promised, "I almost got it." _

_The Martian flew over to the small group standing in front of the Zeta tube. _

_"Great," Robin said, hopping onto Wally's back piggy-back style. "Roy should be here in three, two, one . . . SPEEDY!"_

_"SPEEDY!" Everyone else chorused. _

_Roy was frozen in shock; the expression on his face was priceless. The shock soon turned to murderous rage. _

_"WALLY! ROBIN!"_

_._

* * *

.

Dick smiled a little wistfully as he looked at the photo, his dark blue eyes distant and his beat up jeans as faded as the flannel he wore over a grey T-shirt. The photo wasn't something he expected to stumble upon when he started tidying up his room in Wayne Manor. He'd taken the late shift last night, which meant no patrolling as Nightwing, but he had time today to stop by. He meant to just make his bed, shuffle some stuff around, and be done. Alfred would have a little break.

But when he stuck his hand between his dresser and the wall, his hand caught the photo, and he had pulled it out.

Caught off guard, he was left standing in his room, still staring at the photograph. It wasn't in bad shape. Frozen smiles looked back at him, and all of them wore civvies. His eyes wandered to the bright smile on his own face, that brief moment of joy that was captured in this photo. They didn't just look like team. They looked like friends, and they were some of the best.

Absent mindedly, he traced the faces of his friends, faces he only saw now in memory. The Titans were wonderful friends, but he felt isolated from them sometimes. They only knew him as Nightwing. They hadn't known him since the start. Well . . . Dick looked at Wally. Not all of his old friends were entirely gone.

He missed them. Now that he'd opened up that dam, let those memories he'd kept locked up burst forth, he realized how much he missed them. He saw them sometimes in the Titans when he went to visit the Tower.

He'd be reminded of it if he ran into Arsenal and Starfire with Red Hood, which was rare. But Arsenal was his best friend when Wally wasn't, and it didn't help that he looked like Red Arrow because Red Arrow had been Arsenal's clone. Seeing him often gave Dick a headache now.

Starfire, well he saw little pieces of M'gann in her. Not as much as before, though, when they were younger. But it was in the naïve way she used to see the world, back when she first came, and the bright red of her hair. It was like seeing what M'Gann could've been, an older, grittier version, except M'Gann was a Martian.

Dick breathed from his spot in the middle of the his room, his back to the door now. He blinked rapidly. A moment. That was all he was asking for. One moment, at least, to breathe. Because even for him, it all got too much sometimes. Except grief didn't take a moment to get over. It wasn't something people would just get over. It was something that over time would become easier. Dick knew this, he knew this, because he'd been through it before.

Too many times, it felt like, with too many people. It was always him that seemed to be left behind.

Grief, he'd once heard, was a disease of the living.

He'd never allowed himself to mourn them, Dick supposed. That was probably why it hurt so much right now. Almost like he'd been standing in front of a freight train, and it hadn't hit him until now. He was left reeling from the shock of it, not expecting it to hurt that much. Losing someone always hurt.

"Master Richard?"

"What? Oh, sorry, Alfred," Dick turned, facing the elderly British butler.

He hastily wiped at his eyes, hoping Alfred wouldn't notice. But Alfred missed nothing. Dick noticed his eyes wandering to the photograph, and though his expression never wavered, his eyes shined with sympathy. Quietly, Alfred crossed the room and took the photograph. His light, clear blue eyes were suspiciously bright, and the lines in his face deepened, making him look older than before.

Almost guiltily, Dick remembered that Alfred had met the Team. Roy had come over countless times. He hesitated before placing his hand on Alfred's shoulder. Alfred reached up to pat his hand. They stood like that, and not for the first time was Dick grateful for Alfred's existence. The British gentlemen might as well have been his grandfather, and the closest person Bruce had to a father. He'd talked to Dick countless times, and helped him to understand Bruce.

Alfred held them all up, when they had no where left to go they turned to him.

"I want," Dick swallowed thickly, "I want to show this to Wally. I think he'd appreciate it. I'm seeing him later today."

Moment gone, all business once more, Alfred nodded sharply. "I think that will be wise, Master Richard. Would Master Wallace like some cookies?"

Dick nearly laughed. Even so, he cracked a small smile. Alfred still stubbornly refused to call Wally, Wally, and instead called him Wallace. Some things never changed.

"Yeah, probably," he said.

"Then I shall go prepare some, Master Richard," Alfred handed the photo back to him.

Dick carefully put the photo in his wallet, then put his wallet in the pocket of his jeans.

"Alfred?"

The butler (who was family, really) turned.

"Yes, sir?"

"Thank you," Dick paused, struggling to find the words. A bit lamely he finished, "For everything."

Alfred looked at him critically. "I should think, Master Richard, that I might be able to prepare some tea while making the cookies. If you would like to join me, Master Richard, I am sure there will be some for you?"

This time, Dick really did smile. Having tea with Alfred was an old past time he hadn't done in years.

"Sounds great," he nodded.

.

* * *

.

The cookies Alfred had made and piled on two plates were on the coffee table in front of them, most of them gone courtesy of Wally.

He stared at the static playing on the TV in front of him. In the kitchen, the microwave beeped to signal the popcorn was done. Dick lounged on the couch. The photograph seemed to burn a whole in the pocket of his jeans. He played with the hem of his grey T-shirt thoughtfully, messing with the flannel he wore over it, then stopped as a thought struck him.

"You know," Dick started, then paused. He cocked his head to the side, twisting to look at Wally, "You know what I heard? Only the good die young, but the great last."

Wally nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I suppose that's true."

"Suppose," Dick murmured, laughing softly to himself.

Wally eyed the acrobat curiously. "Something funny?"

"Nothing," Dick glanced at Wally, looking back towards the screen. "Just – heard someone say that word to me recently. We do a lot of supposing, don't we? As crime fighters?"

The speedster smirked. "I _suppose_ we do."

Dick smiled, but the smile was empty. Wally noticed, but didn't voice his concern.

"It's crazy," he said, "When I think about how far we've come. I've been doing this" – he gestured vaguely with his hands, and Wally knew he meant the hero work – "for over a decade now."

"We've come a long way from the kids we used to be," Wally said quietly.

Dick closed his eyes. "I look around me and it's hard to believe how much everything has grown. This is so much bigger than us, Wally."

Wally smiled a little. "We are badasses, aren't we? Since we started this all. I mean, you've been a hero longer than some of the Leaguers."

Annoyed, Dick opened his eyes. "Dude. C'mon. I'm trying to be serious here."

"So am I," Wally countered, "Yes, we've come a long way. We've created icons recognized around the world. Sometimes, yeah, it does overwhelm me."

The acrobat shifted, restless. "Yeah."

He found it hard to explain in words what he felt. Because Dick couldn't shake the feeling that while they had gained so much, they had also lost part of themselves.

Careful not to spill the popcorn, Wally hurried over to the couch. "What's with the moodiness all of a sudden? Feeling nostalgic, old man?"

"I'm younger than you," Dick retorted, and Wally rejoiced at the small sign of life from his friend.

Dick wordlessly dug the photograph out of his pocket. He watched the mirth leave Wally's face as it fell.

"Oh."

"Mm," Dick agreed. "Oh."

Wally forced himself to tear his eyes away from Artemis in the photo. He looked at his friend with understanding as Wally furiously rubbed his eyes with the corner of his long sleeved shirt.

"This," Wally said, "Is exactly why we need a crappy movie marathon."

Despite Wally's words, they made no move to put the movie on. Instead, the two of them watched the static in silence.

.

* * *

.

Alfred had given him the call. Alfred had told Dick that Jason needed him. The British butler hadn't breathed a word of what happened, saying instead he promised Jason not to say anything. According to him, Jason was distressed, and likely to make reckless decision.

Maybe it just further proved how naïve he was, but Dick hauled himself out of his bed after he crawled into it when he finished his patrol. He wondered if he should go as Nightwing, but this wouldn't be a conversation between Red Hood and Nightwing. This would be a conversation between Dick and Jason with no masks to hide behind. So Dick merely threw on the jeans he wore earlier, and grabbed a dark hoodie. He threw on a dark coat. Out of habit, he grabbed and hid his utility belt on him.

It didn't take that much effort to grab his keys and drive his motorcycle to Gotham. After he stashed his bike, Dick tried the apartment Jason shared with Starfire and Arsenal. He knew Jason, or it least he felt he did, so Dick had an idea of where he would go. It didn't take that much skill to break into the apartment, and it didn't take that long to prove his suspicion correct. Jason wasn't there.

So Dick went to the next best place he could think of, and he ignored that fearful, hopeful part of him that wondered what it would mean if Jason wasn't there. He still relaxed when he saw the figure on the rooftop, the city lights outlining Jason's familiar profile. It was too easy to allow his footsteps to be heard, since he had no desire to be shot or stabbed for startling Jason. He noticed Jason's helmet was flung to the side of the rooftop.

"How'd you find me here?" Jason asked gruffly.

Dick shrugged. A bit sarcastically, he answered, "I _did _show you this place."

"Not what I asked," Jason scowled darkly.

He frowned disapprovingly when he noticed the cigarette in Jason's hand. Jason noticed, and then proceeded to take a long drag from his cigarette, smirking around it.

Dick didn't step any closer. His breath was visible in the night air. He looked at the city, before turning back to Jason, who was getting over his surprise appearance.

Jason snorted when he saw the lack of Nightwing gear. "Dangerous, going out without a mask, Dickie-bird."

He shrugged. "I have my hood flipped up. It's dark out. It'll do." That was true. His hood helped. "Dangerous, using names in the field, Dickie bird."

"Field," Jason muttered. "Not everything's a goddamn battle like you and Bruce believe. This is - this is - I hate it."

For the first time, Dick noticed the beer bottle perched on the ledge of the roof. Terrific. In addition to smoking, Jason was likely drunk.

Gently, he said, "Do you mind telling me what happened? Alfred called me."

"Alfred," Jason snorted. "Should've known not to tell him anything - "

"Jason!"

Dismayed, Dick looked at Jason disbelievingly. Had Jason honestly just disrespected Alfred?

_Alfred!?_

While part of him wanted to argue with Jason and defend Alfred, Dick knew it was no use arguing with a drunk. His bartending job had taught him that much.

"You don't meant that," was what he said instead. "He's Alfred."

"No," Jason agreed, "I don't."

Dick waited. He knew Jason needed to tell him on his own, he could see the pain that was etched onto his face.

"I missed," Jason said, his voice hollow. "He was young . . . Just trying to make it on the streets. And there was bastards, and one - and I - missed."

It didn't take much to piece together what happened. Some men jumped a boy, and Jason had stepped in to play his own version of hero and deal out his own kind of justice. Except Jason had killed the boy accidently. Dick didn't doubt for a second that the men were dead too.

"Jason Todd," Dick said sharply, making Jason's head turn towards him.

"What!?" Jason snapped back, determined to give as good as he got.

Dick couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this angry. Shivering in the cold air, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat.

"Sometimes," and he allowed hint of desperation that crept into his voice to show, "The lines get blurred."

Jason opened his mouth angrily, but Dick didn't even give him the chance to speak.

"Sometimes," Dick interrupted, and this time a note of hard steel was behind his words, "The only thing between you and them is the mask and them is the mask and cape."

Jason snorted. "I'm not really a hero, _Dick_, and I don't wear a stupid cape."

"Leather jackets, then," Dick countered stubbornly.

He ignored the way his name was said as an insult.

"I remember when you died," Dick told Jason. "I remember what it felt like to lose you."

He watched as his little brother tensed, ready to open his mouth, most likely to argue that Dick had never cared about Jason. That was a lie and both of them knew it.

Part of him knew that telling Jason this would cause him pain, and a larger part of him knew this was something Jason needed to hear.

"And all I could think about," Dick paused, "Was that day. The one where I taught you how to ride the train cars, and the look on your face."

That was how he knew to find Jason here, and Jason knew it too. Because neither of them had forgotten that day down by the train yards.

"Get to the point," Jason snapped, bristling.

He always was a bit touchy when his death was mentioned.

"I'm sorry I was never there for you," Dick apologized, "I should have been."

Jason muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, _you were never there at all. _

Dick pretended he didn't hear that. He was remarkably good at pretending when he needed to be.

"Jason," Dick stated, "Bruce Wayne is a bastard."

He waited for the open shock on Jason's face to fade.

"That's a given," he continued, "But by this point in your life, you should know that. So don't . . ."

Dick wanted to say, _stop ruining your own life by asking for more than what you know Bruce is capable of giving, and being hurt every time Bruce doesn't deliver. _

Something told him those weren't quite the right words to say, or the ones Jason needed to hear.

" . . . Don't isolate yourself from the rest of us," Dick relaxed a little, "Because Bruce Wayne is a bastard, so that means sometimes the only people we have is each other."

Jason crossed his arms. "I'm not anti-social. I have Roy, Kory, and Tim."

"Me," Dick added, "You have me, too. Whether you like it or not."

He met Jason's answering glare, his jaw set stubbornly. If it took him his entire life, Dick was going to pound it into Jason's thick skull that the black sheep of the family was still wanted. And that through thick or thin, Jason had him to lean on.

"C'mon," he jerked his head, "You're drunk. I can drag your sorry ass back."

"Don't need your help," Jason muttered. "I'm not that drunk."

Skeptically, Dick watched as Jason snatched his beer and swayed a little on his feet.

"Oh, I'm sure," Dick couldn't keep a tiny bit of sarcasm out of his voice, "But I'm still helping anyways, all right?"

"Fuck off," Jason retorted. He managed to retrieve his helmet from the corner he flung it from, and shortly after Jason was gone.

Figuring that if Jason was sober enough to grapple away, Dick assumed he'd be able to find his apartment. That still didn't stop Dick from swinging by as he headed back to his own place, and he looked up at the building. Jason's home was dark, but Dick was able to sneak up the fireplace and place himself by one of the bordered up windows. He waited.

Satisfied when he heard loud crash followed by louder cursing from a familiar voice within, Dick climbed back down the fire escape and drove his motorcycle home.

.

* * *

.

Groggily, Dick answered his cell phone.

"'Lo?" He croaked out.

_"Get your ass over here, Goldie. You said I have you? Fine. Prove it. Tim's moping and I'm not good with the feeling shit."_

With that, the caller hung up, and a now wide awake Dick Grayson sat up. The voice had undoubtedly belonged to Jason Todd. He frowned a little thoughtfully, thinking about what Jason said about Tim, and tried to ignore the little hopeful bubble.

It was hard. In spite of Jason's words, hostile tone, early morning call, and hanging up rudely without so much as a hello or a goodbye, Dick found himself involuntarily smiling. Maybe there was hope for Jason yet.

Once again, Dick hauled himself out of bed because of a call from a family member, and this time he was going to see Tim. Dick had to see him, even if he was the last person Tim wanted to see.

.

* * *

.

"So, what brings you to this rooftop?" Nightwing said. He flopped down beside Red Robin.

Startled, Red Robin turned to look at Nightwing.

He waited for Tim to respond, even if the response was "_Go away". _

To Nightwing's delight, Tim's response was not "_Go away". _

Instead, Tim masked his surprise with annoyance, staring at him like he was a particularly annoying bug who wouldn't stop buzzing in his ear.

"How's school?" Nightwing, to his credit, was persistent.

"Fine," Tim scowled. "Busy."

Dick brightened as he realized something. "You took my advice! You went with the domino."

He glanced at the rest of Tim's uniform, discreetly checking for injuries, and then he looked back at the new domino mask, one identical to the one Damian wore as Robin.

"What? Oh yeah," Tim said, like he'd just remembered he wasn't wearing the odd cowl. He yawned.

"Are you going to tell me the reason you're sitting on a rooftop instead of going back to get some sleep?" Nightwing looked at him.

"Are you?" Tim questioned. He brought up his green holo screen, checking for messages from his Titan friends.

Under his mask, Dick internally rolled his eyes. "Well, if you're not going to talk to me, will you talk to Red Hood?"

(Though Jason wasn't exactly in shape himself to talk to people)

A little more forcefully, Tim said, "No."

Something about the way he said it made Nightwing pause. For the first time, he noted the way Tim's jaw clenched, and the slight shake of his hands as he typed away on his green holo computer.

"You're coming back with me," Nightwing decided.

He stood up and stretched, while his aching joints groaned in protest.

"What - ? No," Tim protested, standing up and shutting down his wrist computer in one movement.

"Yes, you are. I'll tell Agent A where you are, and he'll tell Bruce. You can call out sick tomorrow at school," Dick reasoned, "You look like crap."

"Thanks," Tim said dryly. "And what about you?"

Nightwing smirked instead of his usual bright, cheery grin and Tim was taken aback.

"Relax," Dick said, "I got a master plan. Let's go."

"I'm not coming," Tim said stubbornly, even as he got out his grappling gun and made to follow Dick off the rooftop.

"Okay then," Nightwing nodded, and this time he did roll his eyes. "Let's go. I rode my bike here. You can ride with me. Unless you have yours with you?"

"Nah," Red Robin said, "Bats gave me a ride out."

A thought struck Tim.

"Hey, since I look like crap can I ride your bike?"

"Hell no, little brother or not."

"But you taught me to drive!"

" . . . Exactly."

Bickering still, the two grappled away, Tim following Nightwing. And he would never admit it, but a tiny, small knot of tension twisted inside him relaxed slightly.

* * *

"Thanks for patrolling with me," Tim said quietly, sitting on the edge of the roof with one leg bent and the other dangling over the ledge.

He glanced at Nightwing, who was standing and looking out over Gotham.

Dick shrugged, a half-smile on his lips as he spoke, "Thanks letting me patrol with you."

"It was the least I could do," Tim shrugged, "After you let me stay at your place last night. You sure Batman won't say anything to you about patrolling here a second night in a row?"

"Nah," Nightwing snorted. "Just as long as I don't patrol here tomorrow. Besides, we patrolled 'Haven the first half of the night."

Things were still a little awkward between them, but there was progress. Dick was happy to be spending time with Tim again and he agreed to patrol with Red Robin as Nightwing. It'd been too long since the two of them had gone on patrol together. He hadn't thought too much about it when he agreed to go. Maybe that was his problem.

Either way, they were here now, so it didn't exactly matter _how_ they got here.

"So what happened with you and Red Hood the other day?" Nightwing asked. He cringed, but managed to hide it.

Perhaps that wasn't the best subject he could have chosen. He had just gotten back on good speaking terms with Tim again. Luckily, Tim ignored Dick's foot-in-the-mouth moment.

"Nothing," Tim said dismissively, "I just - needed to talk, and he wasn't in the best mood."

"He's usually not in the mood," Dick commented without thinking, even though he knew why Jason wasn't in mood this time.

Tim snorted, a small smile on his face.

His heart warmed a little at seeing his little brother, who was always so serious, relaxing a bit. Smiling was good for Tim.

A grumpy looking Damian Wayne melted out of the shadows.

"Nightwing, did . . . What is he doing here?" Damian, dressed in his Robin gear, glared at Tim as if willing the older boy to drop dead.

Tim scoffed, reaching for the bow staff on his belt, glaring at Damian. "Well, I do live here."

"Oh, so you live on a roof in the middle of the city?"

Nightwing coughed.

"Hey, Mini-Bat," he tried, "We're going to get some ice cream."

He caught the subtle lifting of the boy's shoulders and head. Dick could practically see the gears click in Damian's head as the boy remembered the ice cream place Dick took Damian to when they patrolled as Batman and Robin.

"Wanna come with?"

Robin jerked his head at Red Robin. "Will he be coming?"

"Duh," Tim interrupted before Dick could say anything. "He did say 'we're' as in 'we are'."

"Enough," Nightwing rolled his eyes. "It's just ice cream. It won't kill you to sit on a rooftop and eat. I'll even sit between you, okay?"

Damian and Tim glared at him.

.

* * *

.

Sitting on the roof top edge (between Tim and Damian), Nightwing couldn't keep the faint smile off of his face as he ate his ice cream. Damian sat on his right, eating his own ice cream and Tim sat his left, slowly eating his. To Dick's delight, Damian and Tim had discovered they liked the same kind of ice cream.

Something which Dick had already known. He swore those two had more in common than they knew, or were willing to admit.

There was a quiet thud and soft footsteps on the roof top. Beside him, Damian tensed. Tim glanced behind him, mouth opening in surprise when he saw the new comer.

Dick turned around, snorting when he saw Red Hood with his arms crossed, standing there in all his leather jacket, gun toting, cargo pants wearing glory with combat boots and a knife to boot. He looked considerably better than he had a two nights ago.

"You fuckers got ice cream," Jason grumbled, moving to sit beside Tim on the edge of the roof top, "And you didn't tell me."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Take mine, I'm done with it anyways."

Not quite a lie, but Dick was perfectly okay not eating all of his ice cream if it meant Jason sat with them. Making sure this was all right, Dick discreetly glanced at Tim, who caught his eye and nodded slightly. He relaxed a little.

"Gladly," Jason said, his smirk revealed when he took off his red helmet, a familiar black domino mask on his face.

Dick handed his bowl over, and Jason grabbed it. Tim blinked at the exchange, but relaxed when he realized there wasn't any immediate danger of a fight breaking out. Damian was looking over at Jason in disbelief, though he couldn't see him that well from his position. Taking advantage of the situation, Dick grabbed Damian's spoon and quickly stole a bite of the boy's ice cream.

Hissing like a cat but making no move to stop it since the damage was done, Damian scowled. Tim poorly hid his smirk by shoving another spoonful of ice cream on his mouth, and Jason mumbled something around his mouthful of ice cream that made Dick crack a grin. He was content sitting on the roof with the three of them, and the world around them seemed to stop.

"You know," Tim started, "This kind of tastes familiar."

Hiding a smirk, he said, "I wonder why."

Tim scraped the bottom of his bowl for the last bit of ice cream. Jason and Damian listened with mild interest as they ate their own ice cream.

Dick waited for Tim to make the connection. It didn't take long.

Eyes widening, Tim said, "This tastes like the ice cream you used to get me when you watched me."

"Yeah," Dick said, his half-smile telling Tim he got it right. "I'd feel guilty when I had to leave you to go out as Robin, so I'd sneak away here and get you ice cream."

Tim could almost picture it in his mind, a younger Dick Grayson grabbing a container of ice cream and stealthily slipping away as quick as he'd come.

"How'd you even find this place?" Tim wondered, sneaking a glance at his older brother.

The acrobat hummed, "It was years ago, back when I was Robin, on one of my first patrols. I helped out the guy who owns the place – he's a cranky old guy, but he has a good heart. He lets me have free ice cream."

"Oh," Tim said, even though part of him was thrilled at learning this new tidbit of information.

Damian paused mid-bite, mentally frowning. In all the times he had gone with Nightwing to the ice cream place, he had never thought to ask why Nightwing was allowed free ice cream in the first place. He assumed it had something to do with Nightwing being Nightwing. But it actually had to do with Robin. He made a mental note to speak with the owner of the ice cream place.

Jason snorted. "And what did you have to give him in return?"

"What?"

"What," Jason repeated, "did you have to give him in return?"

Understanding now, Dick shrugged. "Nothing, really. Just a promise to stay alive and take care of myself each time I come in."

Which he always promise. He watched his brothers with amusement as they debated on whether or not to believe him.

Doubtful, Jason glanced at Tim and Damian to see if they were buying it to. Seeing they believed it, he shrugged.

"Fine by me," Jason said, "If it means free ice cream."

Dick hid his smile.

.

* * *

.

"Did you get it?" Steph whispered, "You got it, right?"

The pair had been patrolling together when they noticed four familiar people sitting on the edge of roof. Thanking sheer dumb luck for this golden opportunity, Spoiler had turned to Black Bat, who wordlessly got out her phone and snapped a few photos. The two of them quickly retreated to a roof top a few streets over, managing to knock out a would-be mugger on the way.

Cass managed to look at Steph annoyed even though the blonde couldn't see her face, since Cass was dressed in her Black Bat uniform.

"Can I see?" Steph said, bouncing a little as she swung her arms back and forth.

Rolling her eyes (not that Steph could tell) Black Bat handed the phone over.

In the picture Cass had quickly snapped, Jason was eating his ice cream looking almost peaceful, Tim had a smirk on his face with his spoon stuffed in his mouth, Damian was looking at Dick disgruntled, and Dick had cracked a smile, still holding the spoon he stole from Damian (now ice cream free).

Steph smiled. "Cute. Though don't you dare tell any of them I said that. We're totally showing this to Batgirl."

Cass snorted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of this story is posted on ff.net under my other username, RingwraithYJLOVER. Also a new chapter was just posted.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little tweaks, nothing major.

He walked into the Cave smelling like smoke and stiff all over. Dick wasn't really surprised when Wally was waiting for him in the kitchen with a scowl on his face. He tried not to roll his eyes, and braced himself. He was fine. Sure, Dick smelled like smoke and might be hiding a limp, but his heart was beating. He'd made sure everyone had gotten out of that building alive, too.

"Dude," Wally said seriously, "You're an idiot. The size of that explosion?"

"I'm aware," Dick said dryly, "I was kind of there. Why does it matter?"

He realized it was the wrong choice of words the moment Wally's face started going red.

"You need to be more careful with your life," Wally said. He was too agitated to stay still, so the redhead paced in front of the old green couch.

Dick rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, mom," he said, "It's just a scratch."

He meant it, too. He felt calm for someone who had just been a building that sort of blew up. Desmond had used the bombs to collapse the supports when Nightwing had raided the outpost, which had been one of the abandoned building in Bludhaven. Unluckily for him, some news crews had been hunting for a story and had come when the police reported gun shots.

"Scratch?" Wally repeated incredulously. "The building nearly collapsed on top of you!"

Wally wasn't sure if he wanted to sob or throttle the acrobat for his carelessness.

"But I'm in one peace," Dick threw his arms up into the air. "I even dragged the thugs out."

Wally glared at his best friend. Dick just didn't get it.

"Do you have a death wish?" Wally shouted. "Do you have any idea what it's like to keep expecting a phone call from Barbara that you're dead?"

"Like you're one to talk," Dick protested, "Just last week in Central you ran into a burning building."

"That's different," Wally scowled, "That didn't have a bomb in it."

"Well what do you want me to do?" Dick retorted. "Ask Desmond not to try and kill me?"

He waited for the answer, but Wally shook his head.

"I can't talk to you right now," Wally muttered. He walked out.

Thrown off balance, Dick stood still and watched him go. He tried to tell himself it didn't hurt to see Wally walk away from him. He tried telling himself it was only a matter of time before Wally realized how much of a wreck he was, even if no one else could see it. It was only one more lie added to the long list of lies Dick had told himself over the years. Sometimes he even believed the lies, because it was easier than admitting the truth. Though he wouldn't ever admit that.

With nowhere to go and nothing to do, Dick laid down on the couch feeling restless after the fight with Wally. He wondered if the others noticed his absence, and then decided that he didn't really care. He'd turned off his cell phone earlier to avoid Wally in case he called. Dick had stopped fuming at Wally's words, but they still stung.

They'd been doing so well. Really. But what happened over a few years couldn't automatically be undone, and it was inevitable that it would happen. Dick and Wally had a fight, and at the end of it he was left wondering what they had even been fighting about.

He stared up at the ceiling, enjoying doing nothing. He didn't really feel like doing anything. He should probably go to his place. He probably shouldn't be hanging out at the Cave as often as he did now. He couldn't help it. It had become his safe haven in the way few places ever did. A part of him appreciated that the Cave was abandoned, dusty, and forgotten. Secretly, Dick was attached to the place because the Cave reminded Dick of himself. He couldn't seem to stop himself from coming back.

At some point, he feel asleep, and when he woke up he was kind of grateful his boss had bullied him into taking the day off. He sat up on the couch, wincing at his sore muscles. Dick tried rolling his shoulder a bit, massaging the muscle. His black hair was a mess and Dick's eyes were redder than usual, and he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He pinched the bride of his nose and yawned widely.

Dick slumped back on the couch and rested his head on the back of the couch. He closed his eyes. The conversation – and that was being generous – with Wally kept replaying in his mind like a broken record.

Of course, the world couldn't let him have a moment's peace. He was Dick Grayson.

"Dude," Wally said, "For someone trained by Batman, you're entirely too predictable sometimes."

Dick fought the urge to chuck a Batarang or a Wing Ding at the voice. When he realized the voice belonged to Wally West, he briefly reconsidered the idea before dismissing it. It wouldn't help matters even if it would make him feel a little better.

He lifted his head to see Wally standing in the hallway that led to the Zeta tubes. Dick berated himself for not knowing the speedster was there sooner. The two stared at each other, each of them unwilling to make the first move and not really knowing what words they could say that could bridge the gap years that time had created.

It wasn't long before Wally spoke up. He never could stay silent, Dick reflected. When the Team was still together, he used to joke that Wally loved the sound of his own voice. Artemis had offered to get Wally headphones and a recorder so Wally wouldn't bother her just to hear his own voice.

"It matters because I care," Wally sighed. "You need to care about your own self every once in a while, Dick. And if you won't, I will. You spend so much time caring about everyone else. Just, get some sleep, eat something that isn't microwavable for once."

Dick knew Wally didn't say what he was always afraid of: that Dick would end up six feet under before Wally. Dick didn't dare tell Wally that he believed it. It was an unspoken rule between them.

Still, "I don't have a death wish," Dick stated quietly.

He wished his voice sounded more confident than it actually was. His words didn't even convince himself, but the life he lived meant he didn't have a chance of living very long. Dick knew he wouldn't give it up. Not until his dying day.

Wally sat down on the couch. "I know," he said quietly, "But I've lost a lot of people. I don't think I could lose you again. I think it was worse when you were gone because you were still alive."

Dick closed his eyes again and leaned back. "I know the feeling."

A short, simple statement that held so much meaning that Wally understood. He'd lost so many people over the years. Death was an old friend, trailing him like a faithful dog. His family was murdered, the Team murdered, other heroes he knew murdered. People he was too late to save who died in front of him. Wally was a constant.

It was hard to admit, even to himself, that he couldn't really picture a world without Wally. Even when he'd been pissed at his best friend and they weren't talking, Dick had checked to make sure Wally was at least alive. He'd spent too many nights staring at the phone and telling himself to let go of his pride, to make the first move. Dick had a sneaking suspicion that Wally had pretty much done the same thing.

What a pair of fools they made. He could almost hear Artemis hissing, "Idiots!" in the background.

"Remember that one time," Wally paused, "That me, Roy, and Kal were going to pick you up from school?"

Dick frowned. "Which one?"

"It was the one with that little shit Matt," Wally frowned at the memory.

He was still able to remember the increasing panic as Roy, Kaldur, and Wally waited for Dick outside the school, until they hadn't been to stand waiting anymore so they left to go find them. He could still see the image of Dick lying on the floor against the lockers with a bloody nose as Matt taunted him.

Dick remembered, too. He remembered fighting the instinct to knock Matt when the other boy had broken his nose. He remembered the remarks that he was a worthless gypsy rat. Nothing he hadn't heard before. Matt wasn't exactly creative.

"Yeah," Dick frowned, too. "Why?"

Wally shrugged. "We hadn't really known Kaldur then, and we'd brought him along as part of junior hero bonding. Roy drove that awful red truck that he'd jacked from GA since he wasn't supposed to be drive."

Dick smiled, shaking his head. "I remember that truck."

"But anyways," Wally continued, "Kaldur looked like he would end Matt. Me and Roy would've helped. After Matt saw us and ran, we took you back to the truck. You were lying in the back asleep while Roy, Kaldur, and me sat up front. We talked."

"I don't remember that," Dick said curiously.

Wally said, "You were asleep. I could've drawn a mustache on you and you wouldn't have noticed."

"You did," Dick pointed out. "Complete with goatee."

He smiled a little at the memory, because he'd had to go to the clinic with that mustache. Leslie hadn't been able to keep a straight face and took a picture for his contact photo in her phone. As far as he knew, it was still his contact photo for her phone. 

"Oh," Wally said, a ghost of a smirk on his face, "Right. Well, that was the moment that the three of us decided to watch out for you. We never told you because we knew you'd hate it, but you were the youngest."

Wally paused. He waited expectantly for the response, his silence a cue for Dick to say something.

"You're right," Dick sighed, "I would've been pissed."

"Well," Wally explained, "That was the moment we decided to watch out for you. And I know they're gone, but it's still my job to watch out for you now. For them, for myself, and I have a feeling they'd both be disappointed at us in how we've behaved."

Grudgingly, Dick accepted it with a short grunt.

"I think I get what you mean," Dick ran a hand through his hair. "We haven't had each other in our lives for a while now, so now we have to get used to that again. I'm used to being the one protecting everybody, and you've taken on more responsibility with Bart and Flash."

It was hard to find the words to try and communicate that. It felt even more difficult to say it out loud and explain it. Communication – something Dick hadn't really tried in a while. He was too used to dealing with his problems on his own until Alfred and Leslie smacked him upside the head and told him to take a break.

"Don't remind me." Wally grimaced. "That kid is gonna drive me nuts. I miss being Kid Flash, you know? When I didn't have to worry about messing up because Uncle Barry had my back if I did. Now I have to watch out for someone else's back and clean up any messes."

"I was terrified when I was Batman," Dick admitted, "Because I had to watch out for Damian."

As Batman, for the first time Dick had been able to truly appreciate how stressed Bruce must've felt when Dick had worn the Robin uniform.

"Great," Wally said, "Glad we understand each other."

They could've gone on. They could've talked about his casual mention of being Batman when at thirteen, he'd made it very clear that nothing short of an apocalypse would get him into the Bat suit, and even then it would be reluctant. He'd created Nightwing to be different than Batman, after all. Or better yet, they could've talked about Wally, and his issues with Bart which Dick suspected were largely downplayed by the speedster so Wally could more on the acrobat's issues. Wally, Dick knew, had the bad habit of ignoring his own problems in favor of the problems of others.

He could've asked Wally to talk about the times Dick found him in the souvenir room staring at the green arrow that was a little battered, but still in relatively good condition. He should let Wally know that in the same way Wally was there for him, Dick would be there for Wally. He hoped the speedster understood that.

But they were both exhausted, and this wasn't the time or the place. Especially since they just made up after a fight and came to a truce. Wally would worry about Dick's reckless tendencies, and Dick would have to learn to accept someone worrying about his health.

If Wally tried to assign him a curfew though, they would have words. He was perfectly capable of going without sleep for a day.

"Where's the remote?" Wally yawned. "Let's watch something."

Dick got more comfortable against the armrest. He snatched a blanket off the back of the couch.

"I think it's by you," Dick said. He yawned, "We're becoming couch potatoes. I should probably go on patrol."

His sore muscles protested that idea.

"We get enough exercise," Wally tried to shrug as he dug around in the couch cushions, "And you should technically still be on bed rest anywa – ha, got it!"

He held up the remote triumphantly, and Dick rolled his eyes. He suppressed his laughter as he shook his head, and wondered when the last time he felt this relaxed was. He felt at home.

"Just find a movie," Dick told Wally.

.

* * *

.

"Grayson, get some rest," Amy Roarbach, his partner, told him. She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips ready to shut down any protests.

Get some rest, seemed to be the only thing people had to say to him now. He rested yesterday. He rested last night. He needed to work, or likely risk losing his job with the BPD.

"M'fine," Dick protested.

His head dropped again when his eyes slid shut. He needed to stay awake. The building bombing hadn't exactly helped his still healing gunshot wound to the head. Well, it was really a gunshot, Dick mused, it just grazed his head. His eyes glazed over.

"No, you're not," Amy snorted. "You've still got that head injury your clumsy ass gave yourself. Go home."

Dick wondered if he'd ever been called clumsy before in his life, and he smiled tiredly.

"I'll go. Have a good afternoon," Dick told her.

He stood up and grabbed his keys off his desk, a little relieved to be leaving all the reports on his desk behind. Walking to the locker room, Dick quickly used his keys to open his locker and switched into jeans and a brown jacket. He made his way out of the precinct, the route so familiar to him now he could walk it blindfolded, and waved goodbye to people he knew.

They either greeted him back, or in the case of one particular grumpy police officer scowled and drank their coffee. Dick had made sure to smile and wave cheerily at that particular officer, who rolled his eyes at his cheek.

As he entered the street, the sun warmed the back of his black hoodie Dick meandered back to his apartment. He stood inside after closing the door, and for the second time in less than a day Dick really didn't know what to do. Napping was probably a bad idea. Dick quickly fished his phone out of his jeans. He thumbed through his contacts and grinned when he found the right one.

It didn't take long for him to pick up._ "Grayson?"_

Dick knew Damian couldn't see him, but he smiled anyway. "Hey, Dami. How're you?"

_"I am in less than ideal condition,_" and Dick didn't have to see Damian to know he was scowling.

He frowned when he realized how stuffy Damian's voice was. "Are you sick?"

_"Do not be daft,"_ Over the line, he heard Damian sneeze. _"I do not get sick."_

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Right."

_"Father and I were in the sewers last night pursuing Croc,"_ Damian admitted. "_They are infested with diseases."_

"Oh," he laughed, "I hated that place. I remember Fridays usually being rough. I'll come over and we can hang out."

_"Hmph,"_ Damian said, though Dick noticed he didn't make any protests.

"Great, be there soon."

.

* * *

.

Arriving in Gotham had been surprisingly easy, and all he'd had to do once he got to the Manor was let Alfred know he was there. Alfred would notify Bruce. 

What Dick wasn't expecting was to be questioned about his whereabouts by a sick, disgruntled Damian Wayne. 

"Where were you yesterday?" Damian inquired. A deep frown was on his face, as if Damian were upset with the world that he'd gotten sick. 

That was the only part of Damian that was visible was the boy's face, because Damian was hiding under a mountain of blankets. Dick had put the Nightwing blanket he'd gotten Damian as a joke on top of the pile. Damian had half-snarled and batted his hand away when Dick tried to ruffle his hair, but he had left it on, much to Dick's satisfaction.

"Huh?" Dick looked over, tearing his eyes away from the cartoon. "Oh, I was hanging out with Wally."

Which was true. A whole day of resting. Leslie and Alfred would be proud, but Dick guessed she wouldn't have approved of the arguing.

"Wally?" Damian repeated.

"Uh, Flash," Dick said.

The boy frowned, but didn't saying anything. With Dick, he didn't need to. Dick talked enough for the both of them.

Dick couldn't shake the sudden feeling that he was a misbehaving teenager being questioned by an adult, which was just ridiculous. He squirmed uncomfortably, and with all the focus he could muster in his exhausted state Damian squinted his eyes at him. 

In an effort to change the subject, he decided it would an excellent idea if he talked about patrol.

"Patrol's been rough recently," Dick blurted out randomly.

Damian wasn't impressed. He pulled the large brown fuzzy blanket around him tighter.

Subtly, thy name is not Dick Grayson. 

When Damian didn't call out his blatant attempt to change the subject, Dick kept going. 

As casually as he could, he explained, "I've been a little tired and, uh, the building the other day didn't help."

"The building the other day," Damian deadpanned, "You mean the one with the bombs that collapsed in Bludhaven."

He winced, and cursed himself for putting his foot in his mouth.

"Yeah. That building." Dick said, and pretended to be focusing on the cartoons.

"You shouldn't be doing so much," Damian admonished. "It's only been a little over a month."

Was everyone out to get him? This sounded suspiciously familiar.

Dick looked over from where he lounged in the chair.

"Did you call me here just to give me a lecture on my health habits, Dami?" Dick asked with a half-smile to let Damian know he was joking.

Attempting to use humor as a distraction didn't work well.

Damian crossed his arms and glared. He said flatly, "You called me."

Dick assumed that meant yes and Damian was too stubborn to admit it. Dick had suspected as much when he'd gotten the call to stop by, but since he had to drop by a file on an upstart gang in Bludhaven looking to expand into Gotham he'd agreed to come.

"You don't need to worry about me," Dick said reassuringly.

Damian frowned. He said curtly, "You're an idiot with brain damage from being shot in the head."

"Technically, it grazed my head," Dick said, "And there wasn't any serious damage."

Dick ran a hand through his hair carefully finding the stitches from where Strange's bullet had grazed his skull. Truthfully, he'd sort of forgotten he had the injury. Really, only the headache he occasionally got reminded him. It wasn't his first injury and it wouldn't be his last. It probably didn't even make Top Ten on his list of serious injuries Alfred had somewhere for future blackmail, though no doubt Alfred would deny the list's existence. 

His black hair, which was long enough to touch the back of his neck, had been cut a bit when he was being stitched back up. The result was one side being slightly shorter, and the uneven length bothered him. He was loathe to get a haircut though, because Dick loved the feeling of the wind in his hair as he jumped and flipped from building to building. He hadn't really bothered or noticed his hair, but it was a surprise to feel just how long it had gotten.

"I'm fine," Dick smiled lopsidedly, "Really. It's just patrol. I've gone on one before. It's not even the first one I've been on since . . ."

Damian scowled.

Right. Maybe wasn't the best thing to mention. He quickly backtracked.

"I'll be in bed by one," Dick promised as he crossed his fingers. He paused. "Maybe two by the latest."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Damian asked cautiously. He eyed Dick's crossed fingers like he'd rather cut them off. Damian was probably going nuts just sitting on the couch.

Damian worrying about him wasn't something Dick was expecting. It wasn't a side of Damian he got to see too often. Usually, Dick was the one worrying about whatever reckless situation Damian had gotten himself into to prove himself.

"As well as can be expected," Dick shrugged. "Leslie gave me the all clear."

Well, no, not really. When he'd first tried to get out of the stupid hospital bed barely two days after, she'd pointed a finger threateningly at him and said, _so help me Richard Grayson, if you get out of that bed –_

Or something along those lines. Said with love, of course. He hadn't paid much attention after she said his name. When she used Richard, he had known he was on Leslie's shitlist, but then again Dick was always on Leslie's shitlist, so it didn't terrify him as much as it used to. Dick had never really been one to stay in bed injured. Something he probably learned from Bruce. It drove Leslie mad. Really, after all these years, Leslie should expect it by now.

Now, Leslie would grudgingly accept that Dick would be back out as Nightwing a little more than a month after a bullet grazed the side of his head, but she wouldn't be happy. For his day job, Dick had explained the bandages with some excuse that he hit his head. It wasn't his best excuse for an injury related to his vigilante work, but his boss hadn't been interested, so he hadn't been forced to make up details, thankfully.

"It's okay, Dami," Dick lightly squeezed the boy's shoulder. "I'll come back. I'll deal with it."

His coworkers had also bought it and had been all too happy to force him to eat food and rest. They offered to cover his shifts and hadn't allowed him to refuse, even if Dick only had light duty because of the head injury. He wasn't too fond of the headaches that came with his injury, but he dealt with them.

Damian wrinkled his nose. "Not until you get a haircut, Grayson."

Dick burst out laughing.

He ruffled Damian's spiky hair. "Whatever you say, Dami."


	9. Chapter 9

Damian had taken over one of the little used rooms in Wayne Manor that had most likely once been a study. The white sheets he had ripped off the furniture were bunched up on an ugly armchair which he had shoved into the corner of the room. The wind whistled outside the window, and the glow of the computer screen lit up Damian's pale face, his hair blacker in the dark light and his eyes a darker blue.

He stared at the information on the screen. It was as if Dick – Robin – Nightwing, had always been around, and he'd found little to nothing about Batman before then, or really that much about Robin. The newspapers Damian had gotten from the library were honestly more useful than the internet. He doubted the librarian would approve of what Damian had done to them, however. On the low, heavy wooden table the newspapers were scattered, and various photographs and articles had been cut out of them. Certain sections were highlighted.

Damian had tacked them up on a board, which was pushed against the wall, right next to the door. He was trying to form a chronological timeline of events in an attempt to piece together the truth. Maybe it would be smarter to simply ask Dick, but something told him he wouldn't get all the answers. This way, at least, Damian got to practice his detective skills. He thought that maybe Dick would approve.

Damian was loathe to admit it, but he wasn't quite sure what he was looking for. He eyed the computer screen thoughtfully. His computer skills were sufficient, that was true, but it was also true that Damian knew someone whose skills were better.

Damian cringed.

.

* * *

.

Nightwing wondered if bad guys had any originality anymore. It was always a warehouse.

Weren't there other less suspicious large, abandoned spaces for them to use?

Maybe warehouses were just more convenient. The security guards at Gotham Harbor who guarded the warehouses with semi-valuable items didn't care for the old ones at all. Gotham Harbor itself was a relatively large area with not enough security, making it easy to break into. Honestly, that was probably it. Besides, nobody hung out by the warehouses for fun. 

Still, he wished they'd thought to stay more local in Bludhaven for the major drug deal. Kinda sucked that they'd gone to Gotham, as it meant more driving for him. 

Ah, well, all roads lead to Gotham, as they say. Right?

Nightwing made his way across the rooftops with an ease that came from experience as he made his way towards his destination. He programmed his motorcycle to circle around back to the Batcave, figuring that he'd get it when he was done for the night. 

He grinned when he spotted a familiar figure on top of the warehouse in question. 

As stealthily as he could, he snuck up behind her. 

"Fancy seeing you here!"

Steph, or rather Spoiler at the moment, whirled around. 

"_Dick!" _

The way she hissed it made it pretty clear she wasn't addressing him by name. 

He put a finger to his lips. "Ah, ah, ah, be quiet. You don't want to alert him that we're here."

The sour, grumpy teenager look Steph shot him almost made him laugh out loud and break their cover. 

"Your hair is shit," she told him petulantly. 

He sighed quietly. "So I've been told." 

Nightwing motioned to the men in the warehouse below them, a question on his face. The floodlights they had set up revealed the guns and the baseball bats some of them carried, all of them looking around warily for any sign of Gotham's resident vigilantes. A few of them looked up, but between the rafters in the warehouse and the general darkness, they couldn't see anything. There were maybe roughly ten men. Both of them could take them on their own, but working together was always so much more fun. 

_Team up?_

Steph nodded, then narrowed her eyes. _Yes, but we're talking later. _

He gave her a two finger salute. 

She gave him a one finger salute, and his grin was still on his face as they silently crept into the warehouse. 

The floodlights were ridiculously easy to turn off, all he had to do was take out the chord. 

Then the shouting and the gunshots started, and there was nothing left but the fight buzzing through his blood. 

The two of them made short work of the men. 

He knocked out the last guy with a solid punch. 

"Rude," Spoiler huffed. "You couldn't have left more of them for me?"

He pointed a finger at her. "Snooze you loose. Besides, that was, like, a warm-up."

Steph toed one of the men with her boot. "Yeah. Thugs are really starting to get low quality, huh?"

Nightwing snorted. "It's probably for the best. Makes our lives easier."

"Hey, did you hear what language they were speaking by any chance?" Steph asked. 

She crouched by one of the men's computers, attempting to open it up, but it had gotten hit by some of the bullets in the fighting. 

"Nah," Nightwing said. "Maybe, like, Hungarian? It sounded a little familiar?"

"How do you track a gang and not know what language they speak?" Spoiler wondered aloud. 

Nightwing crossed his arms. "Because it's a big gang and they speak a lot of languages."

Spoiler waved her hand. "Alright, alright, don't get your utility belt in a twist."

He rolled his eyes and smiled to let her know they were good. He wasn't actually annoyed at her, and really, he probably should've been more clued in to the language. But he'd been so busy, and the gang hadn't exactly been forthcoming with information. 

"I guess we can wait 'til they wake," Nightwing sighed. "Too bad the computers are fried."

"I can call BG?" Steph sighed. "She helped me find some of this info, so she might have something for us."

He frowned, and asked, "Is she out tonight?" 

"Yeah," Spoiler answered, "but I don't think she's in the neighborhood. Should be a couple minutes."

"Well," Nightwing sighed, "it's a good thing I have no plans for tonight."

"What, no hot date?" 

He made a face at her. "No, and hey!"

She waved a hand. "Don't worry, my hot date is homework."

He sighed. "Please call Batgirl."

Steph snickered as she opened up her comms. 

"BG, you there?:" 

It took a moment, before the comms crackled to life. 

_"Yeah, I'm here. Need backup?" _

"I'm good, took care of it already," Steph said. 

Nightwing chimed in, "I was backup!"

_"Is that -- Nightwing?" _

"Unfortunately," Steph ignored his mock look of hurt. "Anyways, the hired henchman are kinda passed out and we need intel. Got any for us?"

_"No, but I'll come down and help you," _Batgirl said, _"I'm free right now, and I could use a challenge."_

Spoiler snorted. "I'm not sure how much of a challenge it'll be, but see ya soon."

Unable to resist, Nightwing said, "You know, it's okay to say you want to see me."

_"Batgirl out."_

Spoiler let out a short laugh. "I think you scared her off."

He stuck out his tongue. 

He wondered why Batgirl was actually coming down, because that can't have been the only reason. Not that there was ever really one reason to do anything in this family. Steph did look a little tired he supposed with her her shoulders slouched a huge yawn cracking her jaw. It could be one part entertainment and two parts to check on Steph. He hoped she was doing okay. 

Either way, it was always nice to see someone else, and Nightwing didn't mind waiting for Batgirl with Spoiler. 

So, while sitting around babysitting a bunch of hired thugs wasn't exactly high on his list of priorities, and honestly it was kind of embarrassing, he'd been in plenty of embarrassing situations before. He sat on top of one of the numerous crates piled in the abandoned warehouse. They'd plugged the lights back in so it was easier to see, and then they'd made sure to catalogue the drugs. The bad guys were helpful with this, as they kept them all in one of the nearby car trunks.

Spoiler was leaning casually against one of the other crates.

It had the words _COMBUSTIBLE_ on it and the blonde hero looked bored enough to set it on fire just to see what would happen.

The thought made him smirk. Hopefully Batgirl got here soon. 

He glanced over at the group tied up back to back on the floor, taking their sweet time waking up. They hadn't called the cops yet, but they would once they got the information they needed. The men, as it was, were still zip tied and unconscious.Hence the babysitting. He swung his legs back and forth on top of the crate, humming a tune under his breath. Recognizing it, Steph hummed along with him, and he stopped. Nightwing raised an eyebrow, and she smiled mischievously.

Nightwing scrunched up his nose. He started humming again and looked around, absently noting little details, like the shadows the flashlights made on the walls when they hit the crates. It made the warehouse look creepier, the shadows more threatening, and he tried to shake the feeling that Barbara was about to appear out of nowhere, scaring the hell out of him just for kicks.

He picked up the green duffel bag one of the men had carried, taking note of the drugs within, and started rummaging through it just for something to do. Spoiler watched him, her patience decreasing by the minute as she shifted from foot-to-foot, arms crossed.

"She should be here by now," she said, frowning in either concern or annoyance.

Nightwing couldn't really tell which.

He shrugged. "She'll get here when they get here. Relax. She's probably run into some crime or another on the way here."

"Make that some crimes, plural," Batgirl said, making an appearance. "No rest for the wicked."

Spoiler jumped. Frowning, she mumbled, "And no rest for poor tired superheroes either."

Steph's comment made the corner's of his lips twitch, and he swore he saw Barbara smile took. 

Nightwing was able to control has reaction to Batgirl's sudden appearance, visibly unaffected but his heart pounding. He'd heard her footsteps a few seconds before she came in.

"Hey, Batgirl," he greeted her. 

She nodded at him, a soft look on her face. "Nightwing."

Steph pointed to herself. "Spoiler."

They looked at her. 

"What?"

Barbara and Dick shook their heads. 

"What do you need?" Batgirl questioned, a hand on her hip and a smile on her face.

Steph jerked her head towards the thugs. "I need the location of one the arms deal going down tomorrow. Think you can get anything out of the computers?"

Batgirl stared at the ruined computers. "What, did you guys set them on fire?"

Sheepishly, Nightwing shrugged. "They might've gotten a little smashed."

"A little," Batgirl said to herself. 

"Hey don't look at me! He did it!" Spoiler pointed at him. 

When Batgirl looked at him, Nightwing shrugged. "Maybe? 

"You're helpful," she sighed.

He half-smiled and lifted his hands up. "I've been tracking this on my end. Ran into Spoiler staking the place out on the roof top and we decided a team up would be perfect."

Barbara crossed her arms.

"Wonderful," she stated.

Batgirl was just full of good cheer today. He stuck his tongue out at her and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Let's go." Batgirl walked over to the thugs and hauled one of the most coherent ones onto his feet.

"Wakey, wakey," Steph said. "We got questions."

The thug mumbled an incoherent response that might've included a curse word or too. Nightwing sighed. 

"Did you guys put zip ties on the other ones and call the cops for a pick up?" Batgirl checked.

He was a little insulted she even asked.

"Yup," Nightwing swung his arms as he stood up, rocking on the balls of his feet. "Done and done."

"Great," Batgirl said, "Let's get this started."

.

* * *

.

Interrogations, all of them had found, went a lot quicker if the subject being questioned was being dangled over a roof edge into the harbor.

Thank you, Bruce, for the important yet uncomfortable superhero life lessons. 

The man was screaming, and the garbled words were almost familiar to Nightwing. He tilted his head to the side curiously, trying to hear the words better.

"This isn't working too well," Batgirl said to Spoiler and Nightwing. "How does Batman do it?" 

Nightwing snorted. "I think he's a little meaner about it."

"I can be mean," Batgirl said defensively, "I'm plenty terrifying." 

"That you are, but unfortunately the baddies are too dumb to realize that," Nightwing said soothingly. 

She frowned at him. 

Spoiler coughed, poorly disguising a laugh. 

Without looking back at her, Barbara said, "That's ten more push ups for you later."

Batgirl yanked the thug back off the ledge as gently as she could, and he hit the roof. 

"'That's ten more push ups for you'," Spoiler threw her hands up. 

"Another ten," Barbara called out without taking her attention off the man. 

Dick shook his head with a small laugh. "Just quit while you're ahead, Spoiler."

"You, shut it," Barbara threatened, "or I'll give you push ups too."

They looked back at the man as a loud retching noise caught their attention. 

"Eugh," Spoiler said. To them, she asked, "Is there another way we can do this?"

"You can try asking nicely," Dick said sweetly.

Spoiler glared at him, and that was answer enough. 

"Can it, you two," Batgirl ordered. 

The man shook and spat, muttering curses to himself with his greasy dark hair disheveled from being hauled around. She ignored him and faced Spoiler and Nightwing. Batgirl explained that she was a little rusty but from what she could tell the deal what happen after dinner. He tried to pay attention, but his mind was still trying to work out the garbled words the man had said and why they sounded so - familiar.

It clicked, then.

_"Hasn't your mother ever taught you manners?" _Dick asked with a raised eyebrow. _"Look, could you tell us the time and place of the deal? Please?"_

Batgirl and Spoiler paused mid-conversation to stare. The man's reaction was comical. He looked as if he'd been slapped. It didn't take long for him to recover. A new string of curses and threats poured out of the man's mouth, and Dick sighed. He'd even said please.

_"Hard way it is," _Nightwing murmured as he walked over to the man.

Spoiler sighed. "Sorry, dude. You're gonna need so much therapy."

Batgirl elbowed her. 

"Oof!"

Nightwing shot a light glare back at the two of them, before looking back at the thug. 

Frozen with fear, the man stared at the approaching vigilante with wide, muddy brown eyes. Nightwing grabbed the man's ankle and hoisted him over the ledge. He grunted at the weight, but luckily the guy wasn't particularly hefty. Instead, he was a small, shifty looking fellow, about a head shorter than Barbara. There wasn't much of him to hold over the ledge.

_"My arm is getting tired," _Dick called out to the man. "_How about you tell me the time and place, and I put in a good word for the police, no?"_

_"Go, go to hell!"_

He shook his head at the less-than-cooperative thought. Looking over his shoulder at a silent Batgirl and Spoiler eyeing him specuatively. He jerked his head to tell come over. Batgirl immediately straightened and walked over silently. Dick nodded at her belt, and Barbara put a hand on it questioningly. He shook his head when she went to grab her batarangs, and nodded when she grabbed her grappling gun.

It took her less than thirty seconds to understand. Batgirl hooked the grappling gun around the man's foot, and it was secured tightly. Once he was sure that it wasn't coming off, Nightwing let go of the man.

He quickly snatched the grappling gun from Barbara. "Sorry."

Stopping it, he felt the a jerk on the line as the man halted suddenly, and all three of them peered over the side to see the man dangling a few stories above the pavement, looking out towards the harbor. Dick retracted the grappling gun quickly, and within seconds, the man was dragged back over the ledge of the roof screaming by Nightwing and Batgirl.

_"Are you willing to reconsider your answer?" _Nightwing asked crisply.

"Oh, that's how Batman does that," Spoiler commented. 

Batgirl said, "Shush."

He ignored them. 

The man seemed to have forgotten that they didn't kill people. He was afraid. He rattled off the time - late at night, ten o'clock - with a few more curses, his bottom lip wobbling the whole time as he told them it was happening in an abandoned office building on the outskirts of Gotham.

_"Thank you,_" Nightwing replied honestly.

The look he received in return told him the guy would prefer it if Nightwing dropped dead.

Well, he wasn't alone in that desire. 

_"You, you will speak to the police, yes?_" The man asked gruffly.

Nightwing nodded, and the poor guy still looked terrified, but at least he seemed a little more relieved. He knocked the guy out with a swift punch. Batgirl shook her head. He looked up at her as he got out zip ties and zip tied Henry's wrists and ankles.

He blinked, the whites of his masked eyes wide. "What?" 

"Nothing," Barbara snorted. "It's just, you speak Hungarian. I didn't know that."

He grinned. "I am a man of many talents."

"Oh, really," Barbara said dubiously, "How come you speak Hungarian?"

"How come your interrogating skills aren't better?" Dick countered, and hid his smirk when she sighed, crossing her arms.

"You're a child," she grumbled. 

"I picked it up a while ago," he told her truthfully. "Haven't used it in a long time, so it took a minute."

"Forget that," Steph said, recovering her ability to speak, "That was awesome!"

She jumped up and fist pumped the air, and Dick chuckled.

"Thanks," he said, "I try."

"I mean," Steph continued, "I've seen Batman do some interrogations before but not you."

Barbara covered her mouth to hide her smile. Dick would've glared at her lightly if his attention wasn't on Steph. He paused, not quite sure how to react to her comment. Dick always disliked doing interrogations this way. They left a bad taste in his mouth, but he couldn't deny they were effective. 

"Okay?"

"Wicked," Steph's blue eyes twinkled merrily, and Dick wasn't sure if he should be afraid or not.

Ignoring it for now, he asked her, "So wanna do another team up at the meeting tomorrow"

Steph shrugged. "Sure. You coming, BG?"

He looked towards her hoping the expression on his face wasn't too hopeful.

"Someone has to keep you two in line," Batgirl replied.

Nightwing smirked. "Excellent. Sounds like fun."

"I know, right?" Steph smirked mischievously. "Girl's night out."

His own smirk fell off his face. Batgirl cackled.

"Hey!"

.

* * *

.

The next day he was sitting in his apartment, Dick stared at the phone in his hand as it rang. He ran a hand through his too long, uneven hair. He could've called Wally. Dammit, he should've called Wally. But hadn't Wally mentioned doing something with Bart? Mentor-protégé bonding and stuff. Anyways, he'd probably be out as Flash right, or at work. At least, those were the excuses Dick told himself as he called Barbara.

Dick waited three rings before Barbara answered her phone.

_"Dick? What?"_

It wasn't the most friendly greeting, but it was probably the one he deserved. He hadn't had the chance to really talk to her since dinner with the Gordons, having only seen her a little bit last night as Nightwing and Batgirl, but he had meant it when Dick said he wanted his friend back.

"Hey, Babs," Dick said, "Look, I know this is out of the blue, but Damian reminded me yesterday and I can't exactly go to the hairdresser because of the stitches and I honestly think it wouldn't end well if I tried to cut me own hair," oh God he was rambling. Dick took a breath. "Look - can you cut my hair?"

The response wasn't what he expected.

_"Oh hell yes. About time," _Barbara breathed a sigh of relief, _"I don't like the mullet."_

Dick raised an eyebrow. His hair was relatively short for him right now in comparison to how long it's been, the problem was that it was uneven and generally stuck up all over the place, giving him a slightly crazed appearance.

_"I thought you'd never cut it. Steph owes me ten bucks," _Barbara muttered to herself, as if she forgot Dick was still on the phone.

Served Steph right, since she told him his hair was shit yesterday. 

That was karma for you. 

A surprised bubble of laughter escaped his lips. He remembered before the whole Strange incident when Barbara had threatened to shave his head if he didn't get a haircut after. He hadn't thought his hair was that bad, to be honest, it was longer on the top and shorter on the sides. In the time that had elapsed since then his hair had become a black mop on his head.

"Great," Dick smiled, even though she couldn't see him. "What time?"

_"I'm at work right now, but I get off at six. Come at seven."_

Dick didn't bother asking how or why she was on her phone at work. Anyone trained by Batman was sneaky enough to manage it.

He waited a moment for her to hang up, and when she didn't, that was when he put his foot in his mouth.

Dick asked, "Do you want to patrol together? We could catch up."

_"I . . . I don't know. Aren't we going to see each other tonight?"_

He didn't need her to explain that she was still getting used to this, being friends, after years of hating him or loving him, usually both at the same time. One extreme to the truce they had was comfortable, and neither of them were willing to break it. It was easy for him to read between the lines. She needed time to adjust.

Dick really should've called Wally.

"Okay, uh, yeah," he said quickly, "I'll just come over, then. At seven. We'll meet up with Spoiler."

_"She could come over," _Barbara suggested, her voice humorous when she added, _"And help me cut your hair."_

Dick had a horrifying, brief mental image of himself with a Mohawk. Steph absolutely would do that, and she would feel no regret for it. 

"Uh, no," he hurriedly, "That's fine."

_"See you then," _Barbara told him, cackling.

Dick listened to her hang up, and his heart felt lighter than it had in a long time. He stared at his phone and then put it back on the table carefully, almost like it would explode.

.

* * *

.

"Stop that," Batgirl scolded.

He sheepishly stopped running a hand over his hair. "Sorry, it's just, different. Haven't had it this short in a while."

Spoiler swung onto the roof, rolling to bleed off excess energy before she stood up. The whites of her mask widened when she saw Nightwing.

"Whoa! Is this cause of what I said the other night?"

Batgirl smirked. "Whoa, indeed. Pay up later."

"Pay up - ?" Steph groaned. "Ah, shit!"

He coughed, trying to hide his grin. "No, it's not cause of what you said the other night. I did need a hair cut. Split ends, you know."

Steph laughed. "Okay, sure."

"Let's go!" Batgirl called out, jumping off of the roof.

Spoiler and Nightwing followed suit. 

It didn't take the three of them long to make it to the outskirts of Gotham where the abandoned office building was. At least it wasn't a warehouse this time, though an office building seemed rather dull. 

All they had left to do was wait. It didn't take long. Watching through the windows, Nightwing caught glimpses of two men talking back of forth, haggling the price of the large stash of cocaine. Around them was a handful of men and women. A few held rifles, and others had baseball bats with screws on the end or obvious bulges in their jackets that were most likely guns. 

The one leader held a package in his hand and was gesturing wildly. He wondered idly why some of them were even in this business. The stake out was boring, and it was a relief when Batgirl gestured for them to move it. 

Spoiler hastily tucked a half-finished granola bar into her belt. "Coming!"

Batgirl rolled her eyes, but then she saw him tucking his own granola bar rapper into his belt. 

She whispered, "Really?"

He shot her a double thumbs up. "Really really."

Their entrance was dramatically crashing through the office building windows, shattering the remaining glass that wasn't already shattered. He shielded his face from the glass, trusting Batgirl and Spoiler to do the same. Nightwing whooped as they dropped into the meeting, and soon the surprised, angry shouts followed. 

"Nice night we're having!" He yelled to the assembled criminals, "How're you doing?"

"Shoot them!" screamed one man. 

"Rude!" Spoiler chimed in. She ducked a punch and then swiftly flipped her attacked onto his back, before knocking him out with a punch. 

"Less talking," Batgirl grunted as she got grazed by a punch, "and more fighting!"

Between the three of them, it wasn't really much of a fight. He worked with Batgirl and Spoiler easily, the three of them working around and with each. When Nightwing tossed a charging thug away, Spoiler was there to knock out the guy with a punch. When Spoiler tripped one woman, Batgirl was there to knock her out with a well controlled and well placed kick to the temple. 

"Oof!" Batgirl wheezed as all the air left her in a whoosh. 

Before he could even think about moving to cover her, Spoiler was already there. 

"Got it!" she said. 

A few moments later, Nightwing heard the clatter of a batarang knocking a gun out of the hand of one man intending to shoot him. He nodded thankfully towards Batgirl, who didn't say anything back, still trying to catch her breath from the baseball bat.

"Nightwing, behind you!" Spoiler warned him. She swept out the leg of her own opponent. 

Hearing the yell from behind him, he turned. Nightwing easily dodged the charging man, using the thug's own momentum to easily push him into the filing cabinets.He stepped back as the thug lay on the ground groaning in pain. Nightwing looked around, checking for more opponents, and found there was none. In the darkness of the night, it was hard to make out all their figure, but it looked like all of them were down for the count.

He quickly got out some zip ties and began tying the men up, dragging them over to the center of the room. Batgirl and Spoiler had the same idea, and soon the three of them were done. He crinkled his nose as the smell of the office building hit him for the first time. The office building smelled like dust and mildew. Sadly, Dick was able to say he'd been in places that smelled worse, but that didn't mean the smell was pleasant. 

"Was that really necessary?" Spoiler asked.

He glanced over at the doorway, where she stood leaning against the frame, her arms crossed.

Nightwing shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He looked around and checked the tiptoes once more. Batgirl didn't say anything, but she looked like she privately agreed with Steph.

She rolled her eyes, gesturing to the filing cabinet thug. "You could've just punched him. You didn't really have to shove him into the filing cabinet."

He noticed for the first time the look on her face, like someone who had just made an uncomfortable realization and wasn't sure what to do about it. The lump in his throat made it suddenly difficult to swallow. Batgirl and Spoiler watched him.

"I'll send him an apology card when he's in jail," Nightwing said, smiling slightly to reassure her. He looked at Batgirl too, and she nodded.

It worked. The corners of her lips quirked up.

Spoiler said, "Might as well send him an apology card for putting him in prison while you're at it."

Dick smiled. That was why he liked Steph. She knew how to joke. The other Bats were all justice, no fun. Though he was pretty sure he was successfully converting Damian onto the fun side of the island, so to speak.

Barbara rolled her eyes. She asked, "Has anyone called the cops yet?"

Nightwing looked at Spoiler and Spoiler looked at Nightwing. He shrugged and she threw her hands up.

"And this," Batgirl smirked, her hands going to her communicator, "is why you need me."

.

* * *

.

The night was still young, and when he was finished his patrol in Bludhaven he headed over to the Cave because Wally complained that he was lonely. Really, Wally was a grown man. Sometimes his best friend was absolutely ridiculous. 

"You know," Dick called out as the Zeta announced his arrival, "I do have a life."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, strolling into the living room area. The redheaded figure on the couch, looking quite comfortable in a pair of sweatpants and green hoodie, waved his hand in a I-could-care-less gesture. 

Wally didn't bother to look at him. 

"Finally got a haircut?" Wally inquired from his spot in front of the TV, his grin looking a little forced. He didn't look like he was getting up off the couch any time soon. "Bart mentioned something about winning a bet in the Titans."

"How does everyone know already? I literally did it today. You're not even looking at me!" Dick said accusingly. 

He really didn't get why this was such a big deal. He crossed his arms over his black t-shirt and fidgeted with the rolled up sleeves of his blue over shirt. 

"You know how it is," Wally shrugged, not taking his eyes off the TV. "Even superheroes need their gossip."

"Very funny," Dick rolled his eyes. Self-consciously, he ran a hand through her black hair. "And yes, I got a haircut. As you can see."

Even if he hadn't been looking at him, Wally only needed to hear his voice to know Dick was uncomfortable. He twisted around awkwardly on the couch to see Dick, and his mind paused, because the haircut Dick had was eerily familiar. Short in the back and sides, and an unruly mop of black hair on the top. He didn't comment on the style. 

Instead, Wally blurted out, "Why'd you get so much cut off?"

Dick shrugged. "She needed to make it even. I needed a haircut, anyways. Any longer and I'd need to put it in a ponytail. Damian threatened to put Nair in my shampoo if that happened."

Not quite true, but the joke helped to lighten the mood.

Wally snickered. "Oh man, remember that one time we put Nair in Ollie's shampoo?"

"Dinah laughed so hard she couldn't breathe," Dick recalled. He smiled a bit at the memory.

"That was great," Wally said wistfully.

Dick frowned when something clicked into place.

He cocked his head to the side. "Bart bet on when I'd cut my hair?"

Wally smirked. "Oh yeah," he said, "There was this massive betting pool. A few Leaguers even joined in."

Dick sighed. It was a familiar, long-suffering sigh that Wally was well acquainted with.

"Tell me you didn't," he said flatly.

It wasn't a question, and he didn't know why he even bothered fake asking. He already knew the answer.

"Now, really man, does betting on when you would cut that shaggy mop you call hair sound like me?" Wally asked innocently.

Dick gave his friend a look. "Yes."

"No trust at all," Wally shook his head. He placed a hand over his heart. "And you've known me how long?"

Funny, because that was actually exactly why Dick knew Wally would totally do something like this.

"Wally," Dick tried to appear stern, but the twitch of his lips gave him away as he asked, "Did you bet on when I'd get a haircut?"

"C'mon, Dick," Wally paused dramatically, grinning and utterly pleased with himself as he informed Dick, "I started the betting pool."

Exasperated, Dick half-sighed, half-groaned, "Wally!"

Now he really tried not to smile, because that would only encourage Wally. Of course Wally would be the one who had started the betting pool.

"What?"

Wally wasn't able to keep the grin off his face as he laughed loudly. Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginning of a headache.

"Honestly," Wally continued, "I'm surprised you didn't find out."

Now he was just gloating, but it wasn't often Wally got the chance to get one over on him. Dick was surprised he hadn't known either. Everyone must've really wanted to keep this from him. Batman would be shaking his head and crossing his arms. Idly, he wondered how much money had been in the betting pool. 

"I haven't been around the Tower too much," he admitted, "I should go visit." Mostly to himself, he mused, "Donna will drag my ass out there soon enough anyways."

Wally chuckled. "I like Donna."

He looked at his friend incredulously.

"She slapped you the last time she saw you," Dick pointed out.

"Nonsense," Wally dismissed, "She probably misses me. Donna has been deprived of my presence for far too long."

"I'm sure she isn't too broken up about that," Dick muttered.

"I'll come with you," Wally said brightly. "We should go later this week. Maybe Friday?"

Dick briefly thought about entering Titan's Tower with Flash. He shuddered.

Wally slung an arm around Dick's shoulder. "It'll be fun."

Famous last words.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Hope everyone's doing okay.

Nightwing didn't say a word when he heard the barely-there noise of someone trained in stealth by Batman landing on the roof top. The sound of the footfalls told him who it was, and he didn't feel like turning around and acknowledging the presence. That might scare his company off, and well, Dick had been getting a little bored. Slow crime nights were nice, but if he was patrolling alone, it was just him and his thoughts.

Dick was still quiet when Red Hood sat next to him. Jason took off his helmet and ran a hand through his dark hair with a loud sigh. He was content to sit, if silence was what Jason needed. The man sat next to him without pulling out his gun, calling him a nickname, or insulting him. Dick counted that as a win in his book.

Jason rubbed the stubble on his chin. "I wish I could shoot you."

Well. That was one way to start a conversation.

"No you don't." Dick loosed a breath. "But you wouldn't be the first."

Jason grunted, muttering a few words that sounded suspiciously like _I'm _and _not_ and _surprised_. Dick should perhaps be more concerned, but he liked to think he knew when Jason was serious about trying to hurt him, and it didn't look like that at the moment. 

He glanced at Jason and smiled reassuringly, frowning when he saw the dark circles underneath Jason's green eyes. A shadow seemed to cover the younger man's face, and Dick wondered what Jason had gotten himself into this time. Years of reading people had taught him enough to know that whatever it was, Jason was bothered by it, and this was the same man who attempted to blow up Black Mask. On his best day, Jason's mood was questionable.

Privately, Dick always worried about him. He often wondered if Jason was happy, and if Jason knew that Dick wasn't going to give up on him. For all his anger, all his vicious swearing and name calling and shooting and Kori and Roy, there were times where Dick would find Jason standing on a rooftop, smoking a cigarette, looking like he wanted to talk but not knowing for the world where he should begin.

"So," Dick asked, his masked eyes focused on the city sprawling below them, "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Heard you got a haircut," Jason reasoned, "I had to see how bad it is."

Dick snorted. "It's not that bad, is it?"

He felt Jason eye his hair critically. The wind ruffled his dark hair gently, and Dick turned to see Jason smirking at him almost sadly. He tolled his eyes, trying to stop the smile on his lips.

"Nah," Jason shrugged, "Just different."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly, "It is."

He thought maybe that would be the end of it, but Jason stayed, much to his delight. 

There was something about getting along with any of his 'siblings' that always made Dick ridiculously happy, leaving him with a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. He was afraid smiling would let Jason know this and scare the poor guy off. Oh, gosh, maybe Wally was right and Dick was a sap. Suppressing another smile, Dick absently tapped out a song on his thighs. Jason gave him a sideways look, but let it go.

The two of them were content to sit for a little, neither one of them caring how much time was passing. He knew it couldn't go on forever. Dick stopped humming and tapping.

"So," he exhaled, "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Jason fidgeted uncomfortably, his shoulders tensing and his hand repeatedly making a fist then unclenching.

"Though it was a nice night to swing by Bludhaven," Jason said nonchalantly, "See what you're up to."

"Nothing much," Dick shrugged, "Had a Molotov cocktail thrown at me yesterday."

That had been a terrifying experience in a relatively normal day of work. Dick and his partner Amy had to serve a warrant. He hadn't been expecting a Molotov cocktail to be thrown at him. Amy, his partner, had snapped at him to keep it together, and he was chasing the perp out the fire escape soon after that. The whole city felt restless. Uneasy. Which never bode well for poor, hardworking vigilantes like himself. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen.

The criminal element of Bludhaven was getting restless, and it gave him a bad feeling. 

"Oh?" Jason snorted, "What'd you do?"

Dick gave him his best, _who, me?_ look. It made Jason bark out a short laugh. He grinned, pleased with himself, and watched Jason shake his head.

"Gotham's been restless," Jason said shortly, "Something's probably going to happen soon. Just making sure we'll be able to call you when it happens."

He was able to hear the unspoken, and to make sure you're okay. Jason did care, Dick thought, trying to suppress a smirk. He just had roundabout ways of doing it. Jason was more likely to call you a dumbass if you got hurt than hug you. Dick would know. He'd been called a fair number of names by Jason in the past. Most of it had probably been out of concern.

Most.

"Plus with the breakout at Arkham last weak . . ." Dick ran a hand through his hair. "You're probably right."

"Of course I am, Goldie," Jason answered cockily.

He put on his Red Hood helmet and stood up, offering a hand to Dick, who took it.

"Oh?" Dick asked, "Like that time you decided it was a perfect idea to play a prank on Alfred?"

It was a risky move, mentioning a memory from Jason's days at the Manor, which Jason usually avoided talking about like his life depended on it. Alfred was safe, though.

Jason winced. "Not my finest moment."

He almost seemed to smile at the memory, even if it was more of a grimace. 

"No," Dick agreed, "It wasn't your finest moment, but it might've been your funniest."

"Whatever," Jason scoffed and waved a hand. "I gotta go."

He frowned. Jason wasn't looking away from Dick, which was hard to tell with the Red Hood helmet on, but Jason's uncomfortable-ness was back, giving Dick the distinct impression that Jason would like to get the hell out of here.

Dick told him, "Take care."

"Yes, ma'am," Red Hood mock saluted. He dug out his grappling gun. "I'll be in bed by nine."

"I mean it," Dick sighed, choosing to ignore the obvious sarcasm. "Be safe."

He had the feeling he could tattoo those words on Jason's arm and Jason would still find ways to raise his blood pressure. Even when he was younger, Jason had always been stubborn. Dick hesitated, before putting a hand on his shoulder.

Briefly, Jason looked like he was considering shooting him again, so Dick figured he better talk fast.

"I'm here," Dick blurted out, adding, "If you need to. You know. Talk."

It was difficult to see Jason's facial expression underneath the Red Hood helmet, but he still saw Jason's head tilt to the side considering his words. At first, he thought Jason wasn't going to say anything. The younger man turned away from Dick, and Dick let his hand fall off Jason's shoulder.

"Yeah," Jason stated, "I know."

Dick knew that was all he was going to get. That it was better, in fact, than what he expected. He nodded once, and Nightwing watched Red Hood grapple away. Shaking his head, Nightwing looked at the twinkling city lights one more time. He made a silent wish; that whatever came their way, they'd face it, together.

.

.

Dick dragged his feet passed his couch, yawning and wanting desperately to go back to sleep. But sadly or luckily, he had a life. His hair stuck up on one side, and he squinted at the sunlight in the kitchen. He fumbled with the cereal box for a minute before pulling the Captain Crunch off of the fridge. Making himself a bowl, the cereal crunched loudly in his mouth, and it helped wake him up. He leaned against the counter along the wall, careful not to hit his head on the cabinet above him.

Sweeping his blue eyes over the place, he chewed thoughtfully. The kitchen was generally a mess, crumbs and random dishes or boxes of food on the counter. His keys and badge were by his phone, which was charging on the counter. He paused when he saw the little figure sleeping on his couch. Dick knew who it was immediately, but the black hair was also a clue as to who it was. 

Shrugging, Dick put his cereal on the counter and walked over to the couch stealthily. Or so he hoped. He didn't really want to do "stealthily" this late in the morning. Damian didn't notice, or he was pretending to be asleep. Noting the small twitch of the boy's lips trying to hide a grimace, Dick realized he was probably half-awake. There was an unexpected warmth in his chest when he realized Damian was humoring him and staying asleep.

He searched his living room for a moment, before Dick remembered that he actually cleaned yesterday, so he reached under the low coffee table for a blanket. As quietly as possible, he quietly shook it out a bit so it wasn't folded anymore, and then he put the blanket on Damian with a soft, fond smile. The blanket was this old blue quilt, a gift from Alfred when he was new to the Manor and shortly after Dick became Robin. It was one of the first things he packed when he moved.

Damian stirred, but he refused to open his eyes. Instead, the son of Batman just clutched the blanket tighter around him and snuggled into it. Dick smirked a little, resisting the urge to coo or pinch Damian's cheeks because he needed his hands to punch criminals. Glancing at Damian, he hurriedly grabbed his phone from where it was charging on the counter. He snapped a picture. Damian muttered something which sounded like yet another sleepy death threat, but Dick wasn't too concerned.

Damian grumpily sat up, blanket still clutched around him, and peered up at his eldest brother with suspiciously red eyes. His hair stuck up in the way that it looked like someone had smacked the side of his head. Privately, Dick thought Damian looked horrible, and he frowned. Dick ran a hand through his hair, still clutching his phone.

"That better not have been a picture, Grayson," Damian muttered groggily. He sniffled.

Still fighting off a slight cold from his trip to the sewers, then. Dick tried to figure out whether or not Damian lost weight. What was the fight with Bruce about this time? Maybe Alfred would tell him, if Dick called and offered to come over for tea. Alfred could then spill the metamorphic tea, so to speak. Or, well, at least 'spill the tea' was something Steph talked about and he was pretty sure that was what it meant. Wally used it, too. 

He feigned innocence. "I would never. And if I did take said pictures, they may or may not have already been sent to Alfred."

They hadn't been, but Damian didn't need to know that. Damian snorted, a grudging smile on his face, and Dick grinned triumphantly. The kid needed to smile more, before his face froze in a scowl. Even if Tim would enjoy that and likely find it hilarious.

"Don't gloat, Grayson, it is not a look you wear well."

His grin turned into a frown, and Dick stuck out his tongue at his little brother. Damian rolled his eyes with a huge yawn.

"Hey, I gotta get ready for work, kiddo," Dick explained. He ignored Damian's (strangely weak) protests that he wasn't a kiddo. He asked, "Sure you'll be all right here?"

Damian gave Dick a look as if asking the acrobat if he had forgotten who Damian was. Dick chuckled and held up his hands.

"Just checking," he grinned, before turning serious once more. "So, yeah. Don't open the door to strangers, lock the doors, please do not bring any stray cats home, don't burn my apartment down, you know where the food is – "

Judging by the fact that Damian was still sick, Bruce and Alfred would call him out of school and Damian looked like he needed rest. Dick made a mental note to text Alfred that Damian was here, though he likely knew that already. 

"Grayson, please," Damian scoffed. "I received this speech of yours before. I assure you I am perfectly capable of being home alone."

He knew that, but it didn't sit well with him, leaving someone alone.

"Good," Dick nodded, "But you know I worry."

The boy bit his lip, hesitating like he wanted to tell him something, and gratitude briefly flashed onto his face. Sometimes, Damian looked as if it meant the world to him that Dick cared about him enough to worry. He wondered how anyone could have put the thought that no one should care and no one will care about him into Damian's head. It made him angry whenever he thought about it. 

He squashed the urge to hug Damian out of respect for the boy's personal space. His fingers tapped out a pattern on his leg. Dick tried to suppress his worry, but he wondered what the fight between Bruce and Damian was about. It was a too common occurrence lately, and Damian usually ended up at Dick's place. Damian had to open up in his own time, or Damian would clam up and Dick knew this so he kept his mouth shut.

Having been there, he could respect Damian's lack of desire to talk about it. He'd had his own fair share of fights with Bruce. Hell, all of them had, even Tim had occasions where he clashed with Bruce. 

But it didn't make the waiting any easier, or his worry go away. 

"Very well," Damian said begrudgingly, and in an instant the vulnerability that was there was gone. He sounded resigned to his older brother's fussing.

Good. 

"Bye, Dami," Dick ruffled Damian's hair before he could swat his hand away. "Get some sleep, you look tired."

Damian huffed. "Have a very wonderful day. Maybe your partner will run you over."

"Sarcasm," Dick noted proudly, "Aw, you're learning."

"You're insufferable," Damian snorted. He paused, before adding stiffly, "Grayson, I would like to thank you for . . ."

Damian struggled to either say the words or find them to adequately describe how grateful he was for his older brother's open door policy. There was something comforting in the knowledge that when everything was going to hell around him, this place was still standing, a calm spot in the storm. Was there a way to put into the words that even when everything else was uncertain, Damian knew he had this place?

Dick smiled. "It's okay, little D. I get it."

He watched the ex-assassin as he relaxed, sinking back into the couch. Just like that, the moment of vulnerability was gone. Dick both celebrated and mourned the moments where Damian opened up to him. Celebrated, because it meant Damian trusted him enough to talk about this. Mourned, because Damian immediately put his walls back up out of habit.

Damian said stiffly, "I supposed you need to go to work."

"That would be good," Dick agreed. He ruffled Damian's hair. "Take care."

.

.

"You're five minutes late," Dick chided as Wally skidded to a stop in front of him.

He started to walk to the entrance of the zeta platform in the Watchtower. In the lower level of Titan Tower, there was a Zeta platform, which meant that Dick would not have to piggy back on Wally to get a ride to Titan's Tower.

"Bah," Wally waved gloved hand, tugging on his cowl to make sure it was in place. "I've got super speed."

"Unfortunately, you don't have common sense," Dick muttered.

Wally narrowed his eyes. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Dick said, the whites of his mask widening innocently. He hid his smirk as he entered the location into the Zeta platform.

There was a brief flash of light, and then they were both standing on another Zeta platform in Titan Tower. He hasn't been here in such a long time. It almost made him pause, but Dick shook it off. He watched with unconcealed amusement as Wally rolled his own eyes.

He was half surprised Donna wasn't waiting for them in the Zeta platform room of the Tower, and he could see Wally pause too. 

They looked around warily. 

"Are you sure you told Donna we're coming for a visit?" Wally queried.

"Yes," Dick winced, then said hopefully, "She sounded calm on the phone."

He hadn't seen Donna Troy for a long time, but it sounded like she was doing just fine from what he'd heard from Tim and the news. Donna had taken over the Titans after Dick had left, making vast improvements that Dick never would've even thought of. She still kept the giant "T" shape of the Tower. Perhaps out of nostalgia, or as a joke. Donna had a strange sense of humor sometimes, but then again, they all did. 

Fighting crime sort of did that to you. Or maybe they were just born that way. 

"Sounded," Wally repeated skeptically as the pair walked towards the door.

"She said she'd meet us," Dick offered, still holding out to the faint hope that maybe Donna wouldn't cause him bodily harm. Not that he wouldn't deserve it for disappearing on her.

The most likely truth was, Donna had probably reached the point where she was so angry she was calm, and remaining calm over the phone was the only way she could get them within strangling distance. He wasn't about to tell Wally that. Better to face the music sometime. 

"Are you sure she didn't sound angry?" Wally inquired. "She, uh, kind of isn't here."

Dick shrugged noncommittally, and he knew that Wally was probably aware Donna wasn't too happy with them. But they both had agreed to go to the Tower, and if they backed out now she'd definitely track them down. Anyways, they needed to go. He hoped to maybe pick up some of the stuff in his room. Maybe swing by and check up on Beast Boy, if the green shape shifter was in. He should probably see Cyborg and Raven, too.

They walked towards the door and Dick pushed it open. Despite his earlier acceptance of Donna's anger, any plans fled from his mind as soon as he saw her. He had to fight the urge to spin on his heel and run away.

For there, leaning on the wall across from the door, arms crossed and an entirely unimpressed look on her face, was Donna Troy.

The woman was taller than both of them, wearing jeans and a light blue T-shirt, yet she was easily scarier than any supervillain Dick had the displeasure of facing. He'd happily go a few rounds with Killer Croc than face an angry Donna Troy. Her black hair was down and her blue eyes were blazing. She looked well, and if there were shadows under her eyes, well, that was just his imagination.

Wasn't it?

Since there was no sewers, no Gotham, and no Killer Croc nearby, Dick was left with the option of running or facing her. The look in her eyes that practically dared him to try running made Dick think better of it. He wouldn't get very far, and it would give Donna the excuse she was looking for to punch him. She still might punch him anyways.

"Hey, Donna," he said quietly. Meekly.

"I think she's a little angry," Wally stage whispered. 

Donna glared at Wally. 

No sudden moves, Dick told himself.

As if she could hear his thoughts, she glared at him, like his earlier hello was an insult. Donna exhaled loudly and tugged a hand through her dark hair.

"Four months," she said icily, "Four months, and nothing. Heard you got injured."

Her blue eyes softened a little as she focused on his head wound, which was mostly healed by now. The stitches had been taken off a couple days ago and his hair covered any evidence of it, even with the new hair cut. The scar itself wasn't particularly nasty, and it was faded, but if Dick ran his fingers over it carefully he could feel the raised skin where it was.

"Uh," he said intelligently, "Yeah?"

She stared at him for several long moments, her hand still in her dark hair, looking him up and down as if checking for more injuries. Donna bit her lip and looked away, her arm falling back to her side.

This man was ridiculous. How had she dealt with him for so long?

"Do you know how worried we were?" Donna asked quietly, "The only reason I didn't check on you myself is because Tim said you would be alright."

She told herself she would give him space, so space she had given. The space was mostly for herself, Donna could admit, because she knew she'd punch him if she saw him right away. It was the reason she hadn't waited for him in the Zeta platform room. Donna had been hoping Dick would let her know he was breathing, walking, and fighting himself, but apparently that had been too much to hope for. Tim's update, a couple lines stating that Dick had been injured, detailing the how and where and then stating Dick would be okay had left her tense for days, on the edge of her seat.

For a very long time, Donna has both been waiting for and dreading the day when someone would tell her Dick Grayson was dead. It was a truth that she knew she would never tell anyone and one that she was ashamed of, but he was one of her oldest friends and one that worried her the most.

Donna has known the little shit for a long time, since they were young teens, thanks to Wonder Women, Donna's sister. She's worried about him since she watched the kid jump off a building with a devil-may-care grin, never mind the fact that he was only a year or two younger. Throughout the years, she's seen each obstacle life has thrown at him, and wondered. She's seen how his smile doesn't reach his eyes anymore.

And it has scared the hell out of her.

"Donna," Dick murmured guiltily.

She shook her head, silently asking him not to speak, and pushed off the wall to pull him into a quick hug. Donna held him tightly, silently asking that he would be alright. He hugged her tighter in return. She didn't think they could lose him. They pulled apart, and Donna squeezed his shoulder tightly.

Then she punched his arm. 

Dick winced and rubbed his arm. "Okay, I deserved that."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "You think?"

He smirked. She rolled her eyes.

"Well," Wally interjected awkwardly from where he'd been hanging back, "This has been touching."

The speedster was smirking wickedly. Dick pulled a face at his friend, who continued smirking. He allowed himself to enjoy this, the light, easy feeling with which the three of them interacted. If the Team had existed for a little longer, Donna might've joined it. Every now and then, a stray comment from Donna made him suspect that maybe Diana had told her about them. Still, he never said anything and she never asked, following his lead.

Donna narrowed her eyes at the speedster.

"I thought I told you," she pointed a finger at him, "That you weren't allowed back here after you ate everything in our fridge and Bart attempted to murder you with the saucepan."

Saucepan? 

He perked up, interested. There was a story there, and Dick was sorry to say that he had not been able to witness it himself but instead heard it second hand. He grinned, unashamedly enjoying this, and Donna shot him a dirty look.

"Really?" Wally asked, tilting his head. His eyebrows pulled together in a confused expression. "All's I heard was 'come back here!' being yelled at me when I left."

"You missed the don't I yelled before that, then. Why don't I help you remember?"

Some of her earlier ire sparking, Donna looked like she was contemplating murder, and because the press would have field day with that, Dick stepped in.

"On that note," he said quickly, "Why don't we go find some of the others?"

Donna frowned at him. He smiled weakly at her. She snorted in amusement, looking at him critically. Briefly, he wondered what she was thinking, then decided that perhaps it was better if he didn't know.

"Beast Boy would probably like to see you," Donna conceded. She jerked her thumb at Wally. "He can leave."

"Hey!" Wally whined. The redheaded man crossed his arms.

It was hard not to smile.

Dick thought about it. "Bart's not here, is he?"

"You're supposed to be on my side!" Wally protested.

"No," Donna sighed. She looked disappointed she didn't have an excuse to toss Wally out, and it almost made Dick smile. 

Wally was sulking, but he was a grown man. He'd live. 

"Then he's with me," Dick said, "C'mon, Donna. Just this once."

"It's never 'just this once'," Donna disagreed.

He held her gaze as best he could with a mask over his eyes.

She relented. "Fine, but he's your responsibility."

"I am not a dog," Wally hissed indignantly.

"Sure," Dick nodded, continuing to ignore Wally. His lips twitched from the effort it took not to smile.

Donna wasn't even trying to be discreet. She was smirking openly.

"Then let's go, 'Wing," she said easily.

She began to walk down the hallway to the elevator that would take them to the upper levels of the Tower with Nightwing and Flash following. The elevator slid open after she pressed the button, and the three of them stepped inside.

"Cyborg's around somewhere," Donna commented, "I think he'd like to see you too. Red Robin's not here, and neither is Bart, but they might be by later."

Dick nodded, all of that making sense. The friction between Wally and Bart concerned him - how bad was it? - but at the moment, he was having fun. Now was not that time for serious conversations when he felt more carefree than he had a while. Visiting Titan's Tower was a good idea, even if he had to face Donna before he got to see the others. The worst part was over, he hoped.

"I'm getting you both back for this," Wally swore.

Donna looked back at Wally with an evil glint in her eyes that said she'd like to have him try. Dick didn't bother to respond, instead watching the interaction between the two of them with a laugh. The redhead pretended to take a large step backwards, his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.

His laughter echoed in the elevator, and Donna's look softened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small little adjustments this chapter, nothing major.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as Ringwraithmd, feel free to find me. I'm also on ff.net as RingwraithYJLOVER, where this is crossposted.


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